


Princess in a Bastard Court

by HouseNaelgyreon



Series: The Dragonlord Legacy [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Angst, Death, Dragons, Drama, Duty, F/F, F/M, Family, Fantasy, Heartbreaking, Honor, Killing, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Lions, Love, New Valyria, New Valyrian Hounds, Night, Pain, Past, Polyamorous Character, Polyandry, Polygamy, Princess - Freeform, Royalty, Sacrifice, Thriller, Tragedy, Truth, War, Westeros, Wights, Winter, Wolves, dragonlord, terrors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-09-07 05:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 48,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16848268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseNaelgyreon/pseuds/HouseNaelgyreon
Summary: The Targaryen's weren't the only Dragonlords to escape the doom... Half a millennium the Conquest of Westeros, House Naelgyreon used their magic and their dragons to create a worthy successor to the Valyiran Freehold that has been ruled by the Dragonlord House in a unbroke chain for almost a millennium. Calling it New Valyria, their existence is an open secret.Such a thing could not be said about House Targaryen... The last Targaryen King went mad, igniting a fire that consumed he and his family alive. Secretly allied with House Targaryen since the conquest of Aegon, House Naelgyreon will not let the Usurper sit comfortably upon the Iron Throne. When the daughter of the current High Lord of New Valyira arrives in Kingslanding, the Westrosi expect her to arrive raining fire and blood. Imagine their surprise when it's merely a girl of fifteen years of age. Yet she is here on a mission: to be a faux measure of goodwill toward for the Usurper and his bastard court, and cause discord within.While her father continues to search for the missing Targaryen children, Nelaemera quickly makes a name for herself as someone who can not be bought, bribed, or intimidated by House Lannister; no matter how hard they try.





	1. Part I — Chapter I

The sun felt warm against Nelaemera’s skin, as the young princess laid upon the soft grass.

She listened to the sweet songs of the birds that filled the air and watched as the puffy white clouds moved sluggishly in the skies above. Nelaemera could roughly make out shapes, such as a dog, a whale, a bat. But it was a dark shape that moved within the clouds that caught her attention.

Nelaemera knew what the shape was, and as it neared her, she could see the broad leather wings and hear the dragons heavy breathing.

The fire-breathing creature landed mere feet from where she lay, and its Rider hopped off its back and walked in her direction.

“Knew that I’d find you here,” Alaenna said, crossing her arms.

Nelaemera regarded her older sister with annoyance, slightly angry that her peaceful silence had been broken. “What is it that you want, Enna?”

“Kepa wants to see you,” Alaenna replied, using the High Valyrian word for Father.

Nelaemera arched an eyebrow. “What would he want with me?”

Alaenna shrugged, spreading her palms. “That is beyond me. But he said that he wants to speak with you, and I am to deliver you to him.”

Nelaemera rolled her eyes. “I can get to the palace myself. I might not have a dragon, but I have something almost as fast.”

She whistled between her teeth as she stood, brushing the dirt from her breeches. The ground seemed to shake as Nelaemera waited, a smile curving her lips as though the bushes bound Alyhna.

The massive Regal New Valyrian Hound ran up to her mistress, opened her mouth and covered Nelaemera’s face with her long, thick tongue. Nelaemera quickly closed her eyes as her face was enveloped in slobber, causing her to giggle playfully.

“So nice to see you too, Alyhna,” Nelaemera said, wiping her face. “We have to, Girl. Kepe, wants to see me.”

Alyhna barked and lowered herself to the ground, which enabled Nelaemera to climb into the saddle it was on the New Valyrian Hound’s back. Alyhna quickly stood and shifted her weight, centered herself, and then began to run.

Nelaemera held onto the reigns tightly, watching as the trees flew by in rapid succession. Above her, she could see the dark shadow of her sister’s Dragon passing over them and leaned down to Alyhna’s ear.

“Let us race, Girl,” she whispered softly. “Let us show my sister that you are as fast as any dragon.”

Alyhna barked in agreement, her tail wagging. Her muscles rippled under her fur as her pace increased, the two of them going so fast across the grassy fields that they almost seemed to fly.

When people began to appear, Nelaemera knew that they were nearing The Capital, and quickly commanded Alyhna to prepare to slow down. The ground soon would turn to the road, and Nelaemera did not desire her Hound’s paws to be torn from the rough black stone.

The princess noticed that the gates to The Capital were wide open, although the guards were carefully watching everyone who was coming in and out. Everyone who was entering The Capital had to present their passes, identification that told who they were. If a person did not have the required clay tablets, then they would be arrested, and taken to one of the nearby Magistrate dungeons for questioning.

Outsiders were not welcome in New Valyria. They could be a hidden threat, and New Valyria did not like threats. Anyone who was deemed a threat was eliminated, Nelaemera knew this.

A look at the engraved gold branding upon Alyhna’s saddle told the guards all they needed to know about the rider upon the Hound’s back. Then again, all they had to do was look at Nelaemera’s hair that was the color of fresh snow, or her eyes that were the color of amethysts; and they would let her pass.

Alyhna slowed herself into a casual walk, as she walked down the central street of The Capital. All roads within the city led here, which in turn lead to Dragonheart, the royal place and place that Nelaemera called home.

It wasn’t a long trip to the front gates of Dragonheart, which the Royal Guards quickly opened when they saw who was approaching. One of the guards sea-blue eyes met hers, and Nelaemera felt her face grow hot as she quickly looked away, urging Alyhna on.

* * *

 

Harlan watched as the princess entered Dragonheart, his eyes unable to pull themselves away.

“Can you bee any more obvious?” a voice at his side chuckled.  
Harlan quickly looked and saw his friend, Ballonos, watching him with a playful expression upon his face. Harlan promptly tore his gaze from Nelaemera’s back and cleared his throat. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do,” Ballonos laughed, elbowing him. “I’m not a blind man, I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“She’s a princess,” Harlan said quickly. “I am nothing more than a guard. What you are thinking off is impossible.”

Ballonos laughed as he returned to his original position. “The Naelgyreons are known for following their hearts. What are their words again?”

Passion and Power.

Harlan did not have to repeat them. The words of House Naelgyreon was known to all, as was their habit of marrying for love, rather than for duty.

“She is a princess,” Harlan repeated, pushing back a strand of his hair under his helmet. “She most likely will marry someone from Lys, or maybe from Braavos, like her Father.”

“Or maybe her Father will loose somewhere closer to home for a groom,” Ballonos teased.

Harlan did not reply but instead looked at the direction where Nelaemera had entered mere moments before.

She was gone, and Harlan hated the sadness that filled his soul. This sadness should not be here, Harlan knew. It did not make any sense on why he would feel sad, after all, there was no point for it.

Nelaemera Naelgyreon was a Princess of her House, and she was his High Lords’ favorite daughter. A girl like her wouldn’t be wasted on a mere Royal Guard.

And yet… Harlan found himself wondering, What If?

* * *

 

Nelaemera hurried to her father’s throne room, her thickly-heeled boots clicking against the polished white and gold marble. Her father, High Lord Rhaemion Naelgyreon, sat upon the throne with a scroll in his hands. His brow was furrowed as he read it, several members of his Circle of Six were gathered in front of him, and they were all attempting to speak. Quickly, Nelaemera hid behind a marble pillar to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“My Lord you cannot mean to do this!” one was saying.

“She is too young, you can not trust a child with such an important duty.” Another said.

“Send me, my Lord,” another said. “I will not fail you.”

Rhaemion sighed heavily, his thick eyebrows knitting together as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thank you all for your words of wisdom. But I have made my decision on the matter.”

Nelaemera must have made a sound she did not know because her father raised his head and locked eyes with his youngest child.  
Rhaemion cleared his throat before standing to his feet, signaling that the conversation was over. His Circle of Six all bowed, deeply to the ground, before backing out of the room; leaving father and daughter alone.

Nelaemera looked to the man who was her father, the man who she idolized. Her Rhaemion was not a young man, but he did not look old, at least not to Nelaemera. His once jet-black hair was now molten silver, his golden eyes had lines around them, and his hands were veined with age. Yet, Nelaemera could see glances from the man who’s painting sat in the Royal Gallery.

“Come here, child, I must speak to you,” Rhaemion said, nodding to Nelaemera.

Slowly, and almost shyly, Nelaemera walked to him, stopping mere feet from the stairs of the dais. At the top of the dais sat the throne that all High Lords of their House had occupied upon since the Conquest, a campaign that made her ancestor—Baelarys Naelgyreon—the High Lord of this massive empire.

“Yes, Kepe?” Nelaemera said, looking up at him.

“My child, have you ever heard of Westeros?” Rhaemion asked her.  
Nelaemera tilted her head. What kind of question was that? Of course, she had heard of that kingdom. Westeros was a savage land, a place where it’s inhabitants slaughtered innocent women and children in times of war. It was a primitive land, where only the nobility know how to read and write. It’s a dysfunctional land, as it doesn’t even have a standing army to protect itself.

More than once, when Nelaemera would sneak and listen to her father’s meetings with his Circle of Six, she would hear the name Westeros being mentioned.

“Yes, I have heard of it, Kepe,” Nelaemera replied. “But what does it mean to me?”

“I need you, to do something for me, my child,” Rhaemion replied, taking a deep breath. “I want you to go there.”

Nelaemera’s eyes widened. “What? Why would I go to such a place?”

“I have gotten disturbing reports from the Westerosi court,” Rhaemion replied. “They are trying to murder the last of our Dragonblood brothers, and you know that I can not let that stand. Currently, my spies are looking for them, but I need someone on the inside who will… be a faux measure of good will to them.”

“And you want that be me,” Nelaemera whispered.

Rhaemion placed his hand on his daughters’ shoulder. “I would not ask you of this, if I didn’t trust you, Mera. Alaenna cannot go as she is needed here because it’s almost time for her coordination. But you my child, I know that you can do this.” He cupped her chin, tilting her face up so that Nelaemera can look into his eyes. “Please?”

Nelaemera knew that she had to expect something like this. She was the second-born daughter, not the heir to the throne like Alaenna was. Alaenna was married and already had young children of her own, her line was secured. Nelaemera was only fifteen years old, her future was still murky.

Still, Nelaemera knew that she could not refuse her father. She wanted so badly to make him proud, and if traveling to the other side of the world would do it, then she would agree.

“I will do it, Kepe,” Nelaemera finally said. “When will I be leaving?”

“You will begin packing in the morning,” Rhaemion replied. “Alaenna will fly you to the Boarder later this week, where your ship will be waiting. You will sail through the Jade and Summer Sea before you finally reach the Narrow Sea. It’s the quickest way, and with your big sails you should reach the Kingdom before long.”  
“Yes Kepe,” Nelaemera said. “I won’t be taking this trip alone… will I?”

“Of course not,” Rhaemion said quickly, his face thunderous. “I will not allow what happened to the Targaryens befall my daughter. You will be taking seventy-five men from the army with you, along with your Warriormaids and a handful of your Royal Guard.”

“And Alyhna?” Nelaemera asked.

Rhaemion smiled. “Yes, you may take your Hound.”

Nelaemera smiled back and hurried up the steps to throw her arms around her father. Rhaemion held her close, rubbing her head as he smiled down at his favorite child. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Rhaemion had given special instructions to the men and women that would be accompanying Nelaemera to Westeros. He told them that if there was even the slightest threat of danger then to capture the capital city, this Kingslanding. Yes, only about a hundred people were going with her, but Rhaemion knew that a hundred New Valyrian’s were worth a thousand Westerosi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this new chapter, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Please don't hesitate to comment or like this chapter, although I would prefer your feedback as love to know what you think of the book.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> —Rae


	2. Part I — Chapter II

Harlan paced anxiously in front of Princess Nelaemera’s bedchamber, unable to make himself go inside. He felt as if the collar around his neck was constricting him, although Harlan knew that it was just an illusion. The young man knew that it was his nerves and that he should calm down, but Harlan found himself unable too.

The Naelgyreon Princess had arrived in the middle of last night, personally delivered by her older sister, Princess Alaenna. The New Valyrian Empire had an outpost just on the edge of Essos, the nation that was on the other side of the mountains that divided the two.

New Valyria was kept separate from the rest of the world by a thick cluster of mountains that acted as a border. They were seemingly impassable, as the dense mist that surrounded the mountains were rumored to be caused by magic. Anyone who did not have an escort through them would never be seen or heard from again, as only the guards knew the correctly marked paths. The only safe way through the mountains was on the back of a dragon.

Past the mountains, the closest nation to New Valyria would be Essos. It was the largest of the three known countries in the world, the other two being Westeros and Sothoryos. According to the New Valyrian spies that lived in shrouded secrecy within the land, Essos wasn’t that populated. Mainly, it was within nine large cities called The Free Cities, that held most of the population. The largest and wealthiest of these cities was called Braavos, the homeland of Queen Vellella, Princess Nelaemera’s mother.

Braavos wasn’t far from Westeros, but the plan was not to reach the kingdom that way. To get to Braavos meant putting the royal caravan at the mercy of the bloodthirsty mounted horse riders that were rumored to inhabit the land. Of course, the royal convoy would not mind in risking their lives for their princess, but Harlan wanted to prevent as much bloodshed as possible.

He had been appointed as the princess’s chief guard, and the High Lord had told him that they would travel to Westeros by sea. The royal ship that would carry the princess across the many seas was already docked at the nearby port, and it was currently being loaded with the required food and supplies.

Harlan had never been outside of New Valyria before, and he was excited that he was chosen to go. He and Ballonos both had been selected, which Harlan was happy about. He knew that Ballonos would have gotten into serious trouble if he was left alone at The Capital. Now, Harlan could keep his eye on his friend. Not only that… but he could keep his eye on Nelaemera as well.

He was ripped from his thoughts when the door to the princess’s bedchamber opened, and one of her four Warriormaids stepped out. This one’s skin was the color of fresh milk, and only her silver eyes were able to be seen through the gaps her veils.

Warriormaids were the personal handmaids to the royal women of House Naelgyreon. Only men could serve as royal guards, so the women served as Warriormaids. They were as deadly as assassins, as brave as Dragonknights, and as smart as army commanders. Harlan knew that under this woman’s robes had to be armor, and no less than a dozen knives. Each Warriormaid had a special weapon that she used, and Harlan was curious about what was hers.

“Your pacing is starting to annoy me,” the Young Woman said.

“Forgive me,” Harlan said. “I did not mean to disturb. I only desired to speak to the Princess and tell her that we will be departing for the docks soon.”

The Young Woman regarded him with those sharp, silver eyes, eyes that felt as if they were piercing his soul. She stared at him unblinkingly for several moments before she opened the door, stepping aside for him to enter.

* * *

 

Princess Nelaemera’s bedchamber in the New Valyrian outpost was simple compared no doubt to her bedchamber in The Capital.

The bed by the window enabled her to see the sea and smell it’s the salty breeze. There were three other Warriormaids within the room, all going over her trunks and stacking them by the door so that the royal guards could take them down to the ship.

The Princess herself sat in front of the fireplace. She wasn’t moving, and Harlan was unsure on wither he should approach her without permission. He looked to the Warriormaids for guidance, but they ignored him and continued their tasks. So, Harlan swallowed his fear and carefully stepped forward.

As he neared the Princess, what he saw made him stop. The flames were moving, and not the usual way of how they hissed and snapped within a fireplace. But as the Princess breathed, they grew bigger, and as she exhaled, they shrank. Princess Nelaemera was staring unblinkingly at them, watching as they moved seemingly on her command.

“Your Highness?” Harlan finally said, summoning his courage. “My Lady, I need to speak to you.”

“Then speak,” Nelaemera replied, not pulling her gaze from the flames. “What is it?”

“The sun will rise within a couple of hours,” Harlan said, forcing his voice to not quiver. “When it does, I will escort you to your ship. Once you are secure and ready, we will begin the trip to Westeros.”  
“How long would it take for us to get to Westeros?” Nelaemera asked.

“With our strong sails and if the winds favor us, three months. Six months maximum though,” Harlan answered.

Nelaemera finally turned to look at him, and Harlan’s heart clenched in his chest. As the light of the flames flickered against her face, Harlan suddenly realized that he would be trapped on a boat for three months with… with… her. Not that Harlan was complaining of course, but he was still nervous.

“I will be ready,” Nelaemera said. “And we are sure that it will be safe?”

Harlan nodded. “It will be safer than traveling through Essos, My Lady. It also will be faster.”

Nelaemera turned back to the flames, considering his words. “I understand. Thank you, Harlan.”

Harlan bowed deeply. “You are welcome, My Lady.”

He backed out of the room and looked to the Warriormaid who had let him inside. She looked at him again, with that same piercing gaze, before she slipped back into Nelaemera’s room and closed the door.

* * *

 

“I do believe that guard has feelings for you,” Lerylla Harterah said as she turned to her princess.

Nelaemera looked up at her Warriormaid as she began to unwrap her veil. “You mean Harlan?”

“That is his name?” another of her Warriormaids asked, grinning. “He is… cute.”

Nelaemera felt heat rush into her cheeks. She had known Harlan since she was a child, as he was one of the trainees to become a member of the royal guard. Nelaemera that he was a boy who rarely smiled, but when he did it lit up the room.

“Perhaps,” she said, replying to the Warriormaid who had spoken. “But what should I care, Sirylea?”

Sirylea’s blue eyes danced behind her veil as she stacked the last of the trunks by the door. “Then if you do not want him, could I have him?”

“No one is going to have anyone,” declared Ralha, the leader of this group of Warriormaids. “We have a job to do, remember?”

Sirylea nodded, although she continued to giggle playfully. As the youngest of the Warriormaids, she still had a child-like spirit, although that did not make her any less deadly than the others.

Sirylea Hestohrin was only one of the four Warriormaids who had been assigned to Nelaemera when she was born. It was the custom. Girls who were born on the same day as a member of the royal family were placed within a drawing, in which they could be chosen to become Warriormaids. They served their assigned Mistress until death, although occasionally they could be released from their vows.

The other three who were to join Nelaemera on this diplomatic mission to Westeros were named Ralha Qaaqaq, Lerylla Harterah, and Lana Doxas. Each girl was as different as they were similar, each having different backgrounds and choices in weaponry that made them unique.

Sirylea—who was the youngest of the group—was descended from the first Lys migrants who had first immigrated to New Valyria at it’s first founded. The young girl possessed the classic Lys features—white-blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin— as the blood of Old Valyria was within those of the nation. Although Nelaemera had more Valyrian blood within her than her friend.

Sirylea was a bubbly girl, who loved singing and dancing; but that did not make her any less deadly. Her chosen weapon was a three-meter-long whip made of black braided cord. Its handle was inlaid with silver—to match her fair and delicate features—with a sharp Valyrian Steel tip.

Ralha was considered the eldest of the group, although she was born a mere couple hours before the others. Because of this status, she was the ‘mother’ of everyone, protective and caring. Ralha was the only one who could scold Nelaemera besides her mother and sister, and the young princess would listen. Her Warriormaid was the illegitimate daughter of House Xhasas, a cadet house of House Naelgyreon that was founded almost 500-years ago. Ralha possessed many Summer Islander features—ebony skin and golden eyes—although she preferred to dye her black hair bright-blue, for some reason. Her chosen weapons were a pair of twin, lion-headed daggers, given to her by her father.

Lerylla was the seductress, a young woman of little words and preferred for her actions to speak for her. She was born into one of the many Love Temples that was in New Valyria, where her mother was a priestess. She usually kept her auburn hair bound in three braids that she looped together and weaved with bright-green silk ribbons. Her skin was fair and rosy, with eyes the color of molten silver. Lerylla was the best trained in hand-to-hand combat, and was Nelaemera’s usual sparring partner, although when she has to fight then, Lerylla will use various weapons such as throwing stars engraved with images of flowers.

The last member of Nelaemera’s Warriormaids was Lana, and she was the greatest mystery. Found on the steps of an orphanage, she was taken to the Warriormaid Training School within Southern New Valyria, where all the assassins were trained. Her skin was the color of tanned hide, with light-brown eyes and curly black hair. Lana fought with a pair of Valyrian Steel fighting sticks that by pressing a button at the button, a blade extended.

When the time came for Warriormaids to be chosen for Nelaemera, her father selected the four girls himself. Although Nelaemera found it slightly irritating that he would smother her sometimes, she forgave him when she discovered that he had provided her with many ways to learn self-defense.

“You should sleep, Mera,” Lana suggested. “Before we leave.”  
“I will soon be on a boat in which I will do nothing but sleep or read books,” Nelaemera replied. “We are supposed to leave in four hours, why not get an early start? Call the guards and tell them to begin to load my items on the ship. I want to explore the outpost for a couple of minutes by myself before I join you.”

Her Warriormaids knew better than trying to stop her, and they also knew that Nelaemera could more than handle herself.  
As her Warriormaids did as she said, Nelaemera picked up a nearby torch and left her chambers.

The princess had only been outside of New Valyria twice when they were visiting her mother’s parents in Braavos, but both events happened while she was quite young. This was Nelaemera’s first visit by herself, along with her first visit to this Westeros.

Although Nelaemera did not want to admit it, she was nervous about going. These Westerosi were known primitive savages, who did not understand the meaning of honor. What if they tried to kill her?  
No, they wouldn’t do that Mera. They need you; they need your family. The current House in control is unstable.

“My Lady?” a deep voice said behind her. “Do you need assistance?”

Nelaemera turned and found herself face-to-face with Harlan. The young guard was looking at her worryingly, as he was afraid that she had hurt herself, or if she was considering running away.  
“It’s alright Harlan,” Nelaemera said. “I am alright. Just… thinking.”

“Where are your Warriormaids, My Lady?” Harlan asked. “Shall I fetch them for you?”

“No,” Nelaemera said, shaking her head. “I just needed a moment to myself. I have… a lot on my mind.”

Harlan took a small step forward. “When I have a lot on my mind, I find it best to talk to someone about it.”

Nelaemera smiled. “Oh really? Well then, would you like to be my ‘Someone’?”

“If that is what My Lady wishes,” Harlan replied.

Nelaemera looked at him. “Harlan, it is just us. You can call me Mera… like you used too.”

Harlan looked behind him, the hall as empty and he knew that the other guards would be preparing the ship. The princess would be safe with him. He just would have to control himself.

“My La—,” Harlan cleared his throat. “I mean… Mera. What is, on your mind? We have known each other since we were children. Please unburden yourself.”

Nelaemera looked out one of the windows, gazing at the sea and the docks below. “I want to please my father. I want to show him that he can believe in me.”

“The High Lord trusts you,” Harlan said, slowly walking to stand at your side. “Why else would he give you this diplomatic mission?”  
“Harlan… there is more to what I am doing, going to Westeros than just traveling the land,” Nelaemera said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “I’m to find out, how to destroy the current House that controls the throne.”

Harlan jerked his head in her direction. “What?”

“You know what this House did to our Ally, how they murdered—or they attempted to murder—every last one,” Nelaemera reminds him. “While my father is hunting for the survivors, I must first learn this kingdoms’ weakness to use against it. But how can I do that? I’m nothing more than a child…”

Before Harlan knew what, he was doing, he placed his hand upon hers, tenderly. “Mera… that cannot be the furthest thing from the truth. Although you are young—as you are only fifteen years of age—you are wise and strong beyond your years. Who do you know has perfected the art of Water Dancing before they were twelve? Who else walks with the same grace as you too? Mera… you can do this. I... we all, believe in you.”

Harlan’s face was red as he finished speaking, but he knew that the words could not be taken back.

Nelaemera’s eyes fastened upon his hand that was on hers, before slowly moving back up to gaze into his eyes. His blue eyes seemed to almost glow in the darkness, with the flickering torch being the only source of light.

The two of them began to slowly lean closer… and closer… and closer… until their lips touched.

Harlan tensed himself, preparing for Nelaemera to slap him away for his boldness, but she didn’t. Instead, Nelaemera leaned closer, wanting more. Harlan hungered to do more. For years he had waited to just that simple kiss, and it wasn't enough. Harlan wanted to cup the back of her head as he deepened the kiss, but the sound of footsteps echoing down the halls forced him to pull away.

“Forgive me,” Harlan said softly. “I was too bold.”

Nelaemera opened her mouth to tell him that she wasn’t offended but ceased when three of her guards appeared.

“My Lady,” the Guards said after he bowed. “The ship is ready to set sail.”

Nelaemera didn’t turn to look at Harlan when the guard spoke. Instead, she clasped her hands in front of her and nodded with royal dignity. “Then let us go.”

She did not know what was awaiting her in Westeros, but Nelaemera knew that she could handle whatever came her way.

At least, she hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this new chapter, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Please don't hesitate to comment or like this chapter, although I would prefer your feedback as love to know what you think of the book.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> —Rae


	3. Part I — Chapter III

It did not take Nelaemera long to settle on her hatred of being on the ocean. She had the blood of the dragon flowing through her veins, fire and air were her elements. Water was her enemy.

The Naelgyreon Princess easily grew seasick on the steady rocking vessel and spent days locked inside her cabin. Her Warriormaids attended to her every need, such as giving her soothing tea made from a herb known as Ruby Peppermint; called such because of its bright red color.

Tea was an essential drink within the New Valyrian Empire, as not everyone could afford wine. Free tea leaves were given out daily to the poorest of New Valyria’s citizens, along with bread, cheese, and rice. Meat from the wild game was abundant, and anyone could find wild vegetables within the forests and jungles. It wasn’t a lot, but hardly anyone went hungry within the Empire.

Vaelyra Naelgyreon, the third High Lord, founded this practice. She believed that no child should ever go hungry, as that was the foundation of revolts. Vaelyra made herself beloved to the poor, with the emotions being carried to this day.

For the next three months, Nelaemera was confined to the massive ship that she was forced to call home. They stopped at crucial several island ports, both to refill on fresh water and to alert the spies for the Empire. The spy network that worked for New Valyria was massive. Within every city, town or village—whither they be big or small—was a spy that worked for the New Valyrian Empire.

All spies were trained within a particular school located within South New Valyria and instructed by members of House Narralis. House Narralis was one of the four cadet branches of House Naelgyreon, each one founded and descended by the youngest children of Manaelyra Naelgyreon; the second High Lord of New Valyria. According to history, Manaelyra had five children in total, although it was her eldest daughter—Vaelyra—who would sit upon the throne when she died. Fearing war, Manaelyra allowed her four remaining children to for cadet houses, along with giving them a region to govern.

House Narralis was founded by Jaeremar Naelgyreon, the eldest son. He wed a woman by the name of Saelosha Narralis of Lys and together they had seven children. The South of New Valyria is their region, a land of deserts and unflinching sun. It was the perfect place to train spies, and all who wished to join the extensive network was sent there.

The closet House to Nelaemera’s heart was House Vhassymion, who was founded by Maelenya Naelgyreon, the second-born daughter of Manaelyra. Ruling the East of New Valyria, they are the only people within the Empire who can breed the famed New Valyrian Hounds. Alyhna—a Regal New Valyrian Hound, a sub-species bred only for royalty and the highest of New Valyrian nobility—came from this house. Visenar Vhassymion, the heir to House Vhassymion, gave Alyhna to Nelaemera on her fifth nameday.

The other two cadet Houses were House Xhasas and House Nestelion, both founded by the youngest son and youngest daughter of Manaelyra. The son, Baesegaron, wed a woman from the Summer Islands named Zorrosa, who bore him eleven children. House Xhasas controls the West of New Valyria and is at the front lines in case of a battle. The New Valyiran Army usually begin training at the large training school located on House Xhasas lands.

House Nestelion was founded by Saelalys, the youngest daughter of Manaelyra, who wed a man named Joriros Nestelion of Lys. They control the North of New Valyria and are known as the 'knowledge collectors,' where a copy of all the books, maps, laws, and other written text is stored. All the original information that was saved before and after the Doom of Valyira was brought there.

Whenever the ship docked at one of the islands, Nelaemera could leave the ship—with her Warriormaids of course—to stretch her legs. As much as Nelaemera wanted to bring Alyhna, her Warriormaids cautioned her against it. Alyhna was the first New Valyrian Hound to leave the Empire, fisherfolk, and Merchants would see her and talk. Since they traveled all over the world, word would soon reach Westeros and ruin the surprise, which was what they were hoping for.

According to their spies within the kingdom, the current King was in a region known as the North. He was trying to convince his childhood friend to become his Hand of the King, the Westerosi equivalent of Grand Royal Vizier within New Valyria. This group would be making their way back to the capital, a city known as Kingslanding within the month.

If the wind stayed within Nelaemera’s favor, then she and her party would arrive less than a week after the King and his party.

While she was on the ship, Nelaemera spent the dragging hours by reading the various scrolls that the spies had gathered about the current King of Westeros. They were only copies, as the real letters were sent to her Father in The Capital, but it provided Nelaemera something to do.

Nelaemera had limited knowledge of Westeros, and all that she knew came from eavesdropping on her Father’s, Council meetings. As the second-born daughter, Nelaemera was not trained to rule, like her older sister, Alaenna, was. This allowed Nelaemera to spend her time however she wanted, and while most would think she spent it within the Royal Spa or stuffing her face with the rich foods only a princess would eat. But, Nelaemera did neither of those things.

The young princess loved to read, to learn, to learn how to fight. All members within House Naelgyreon had to learn the various forms of combat. Since Nelaemera always had so much free time on her hands, she spent it wisely. Nelaemera devoured books like they were Sugared Lemons, and spent many hours within the Royal Archives. When Nelaemera wasn’t reading, she was in her dancing lessons, but they weren’t regular dancing lessons.

Her mother, Queen Vellella, was from Braavos, and she told her youngest daughter stories of the infamous Water Dancers. According to Queen Vellella, Water Dancing was called thus because it was the custom for the practitioners to duel upon the Moon Pool near the Sealord's Palace. Water Dancer’s are allegedly the best swordmasters in the world. A style is a refined form of fencing in which the practitioner stands sideways and wields a slender blade. It is a swift and deadly style that focuses on speed, balance, and grace. Trainees learn to use their sword as though it is part of the arm, and to see with all the senses.

When Nelaemera heard of this, she begged her Father to find her a Swordsmaster, one who would teach her everything. Queen Vellella found it bizarre that a princess should learn to fight, but Nelaemera’s Father reminded her that within New Valyria, all were expected to train to become strong and serve the Empire. Their status of birth or gender had no influence upon it.

Her Father swiftly agreed and hired a man called Norodos Forel to become her teacher. For years, Nelaemera trained in the grueling swordart, and almost always went to bed sore; but she knew that it was worth it and never complained.

As Nelaemera sat in her bed, the light of the full moon reflected off the red, Valyrian Steel Sword that laid by her side. The slender sword was a gift from her Father upon Nelaemera’a mastery of Water Dancing when she turned thirteen years of age. The razor-sharp three-foot-long blade was the color of fresh blood, with a black hilt, and Valyrian Steel cross guards in the shape of roaring dragons. The pommel was designed like a dragon’s claw, sharpened to deadly points. It fit perfectly within Nelaemera’s hand.

Nelaemera couldn’t help but wonder if she might have to use the sword, not that she was afraid too. Nelaemera didn’t know what to expect when she arrived in Westeros, but she knew she had to be prepared. She didn’t have to fear what might happen if her sword ever got knocked out of her hand, because the Naelgyreon Princess possessed a Gift that only a hand full of people knew.

A Gift that she didn’t exactly have full control over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this new chapter, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Please don't hesitate to comment or like this chapter, although I would prefer your feedback as love to know what you think of the book.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> —Rae


	4. Part I — Chapter IV

The bells of the Great Sept of Baelor woke fourteen-year-old Sansa Stark from her non-existent sleep. The eldest daughter of the Lord of Winterfell laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling as she listened to the booming, insistent bells. Outside of her bedchamber, Sansa could hear frantic running, men shouting, and ladies whispering. It was a noise that Sansa had been forced to become accustomed too since she and her family arrived in King’s Landing, but this time it sounded… different.

The ringing of the bells had a fast-paced rhythm, not the slow, soothing call to prayers that the Sept usually produced.

 _Something was wrong,_ Sansa thought to herself. _The bells sound... off_

Slowly, the Northern Lady rose from her bed, her hand instructively reaching on the side of the bed, only to feel the air. A lump formed within Sansa’s throat as she remembered that Lady, her beloved direwolf, was no longer with her.

 _All because of Joffrey_ , Sansa thought bitterly.

Forcing the terrible thoughts from her mind, Sansa slowly walked to the open balcony that was in her chambers within the Red Keep. From here, Sansa could see most some of King’s Landing as well as the various ports where merchant’s ships would dock to unload their goods. Typically, there was nothing of importance that would make Sansa interested in the watch, but this time something caught her eye.

Not far from one of the ports sat a large ship, a ship more massive than any Sana had ever seen before in her life. The bow of the vessel was carved into the shape of a roaring dragon and inlaid with gold, and large red gemstone that glittered so brightly, Sansa could see them from where she stood. The sails were being lowered, but Sansa saw the shape of a roaring dragon briefly.

Sansa’s stomach flipped, her eyes widening. _The Targaryens… They… They have returned!_

The Targaryens were the bad people, Sansa knew. They were very bad people. Her father and the King had did good by stopping them, so how could they be back?

Before Sansa could comprehend further, the door to the chamber burst open and her Father stood on the threshold with her younger sister.

“Father, what is going on?” Sansa asked, her eyes wide with fright. “Is that a Targaryen ship?”

Her father, Lord Eddard Stark, glanced to his youngest daughter Arya, before looking back to his eldest. He weighed his options of either lying to his daughters or telling them to truth in his mind, before settling on not answering her question fully.

“You and your sister say here,” Eddard said. “The King had summoned me to a Small Council meeting to… discuss what is going on.”

Sansa was trembling, but she knew that she must keep a brave face. Yet, the thought of the Targaryens returning frightened her. Sansa knew of the Mad King, she had heard the tales of how he murdered her grandfather and uncle. King Robert did a service to the realm by stopping the Mad King and his family.

 _Could it be that the Targaryens have returned for vengeance?_ Sansa wondered. _What will they do to us?_

Eddard patted Arya on the shoulder and told the young girl to listen to her older sister before he disappeared down the hallway. Several of his men stayed, of course, to guard and watch over his daughters, as their loyalty to the North couldn’t be questioned.

Arya walked to the balcony, her grey eyes fastening upon the dragon ship. “That’s an interesting ship. I wonder if we will be able to walk on deck?”

“Of course, we won’t be able to walk on the ship, you idiot,” Sansa snapped. “The Targaryens have returned to slaughter us all.”

“You don’t know that,” Arya retorted. “That could be anyone.”

“Don’t be naïve Arya,” Sansa said, rolling her eyes. “Who else is known for their dragons? The Targaryens have returned to rain vengeance upon us all! Who knows how many people are on that ship?”

Arya turned back to the ship, tilting her head. “I don’t think that is House Targaryen. For all we know, it could be Traders from another kingdom or something. Maybe they’re friendly.”

* * *

 

The throne room of the Red Keep was buzzing with life as Eddard Stark entered the room. Men were shouting, women were asking questions as they were being escorted from the room, the knights were trying to assemble.

It was absolute chaos.

Pacing and bellowing in front of the Iron Throne was his friend and king, Robert Baratheon. His Kingsguard were around him, as were the members of the Small Council: Lord Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish, the king's Master of Coin and a friend of Eddard's wife from childhood; Grand Maester Pycelle, the king's adviser in all matters scientific and academic; Lord Renly Baratheon, the youngest of the king's two brothers and Master of Laws; and Varys, a eunuch and the Master of Whisperers (the head of the king's intelligence network).

“Ned!?” Robert was bellowing. “Ned where in the Seven Hells are you?!”

“I’m here!” Eddard said as he cut through the throngs of people. “I’m here, Rob.”

Robert turned at the sound of his friend’s voice and gripped Eddard tightly by the shoulders. “Did you see it, Ned? Did you see it? My nightmares have come to life!”

“Calm down, Rob,” Eddard said, attempting to soothe him. “We don’t know if it is the Targaryens.”

“Are you blind Ned?!” Robert bellowed. “Did you not see the dragon upon their bow? On their sails?! Those insidious bastards have returned to murder us all!”

“Say if it is the Targaryens,” Eddard said, trying to be sensible. “We will bar the city, and prevent them from storming us. They can’t get in.”

“And when we run out of food, they will starve us out!” Robert countered. “The Smallfolk will revolt, and who’s head; do you think they will place upon a pike?”

“Please be calm, my Lord Husband,” a silky-smooth voice said behind both men.

Eddard turned around and found himself face-to-face with Queen Cersei, and her eldest son, Prince Joffrey. His grey eyes hardened, as the memories of what had happened upon the King’s Road, flooded his mind.

“Cersei, what are you doing here?” Robert demanded.

“Joffrey wanted to see what all the commotion was about,” Cersei replied. “I just couldn’t keep him away.”

“Is it true?” Joffrey asked. “Have the Targaryens returned?”

“No,” Eddard said.

“Yes,” Robert said, at the same time.

Cersei’s green eyes slid between the two men. “Then what is it? Have they returned, or haven’t they?”

Eddard opened his mouth to speak, but when Varys cleared his throat, they all turned to him.

“What is it?” Eddard asked.

“Forgive me, my Lords and Lady,” Varys said, in his normal smooth, calm voice. “But one of my Little Birds has brought me the news that a man who claims to be from the ship, desires to speak with you. He doesn’t look like a Targaryen.”

Robert and Eddard both looked at each other, although it was Eddard who spoke.

“Tell the man to wait a moment, and we will see him,” Eddard said.

Varys bowed before he melted in with the scrambling crowd. Eddard meanwhile walked to the top of the dais was the Iron Throne sat, and uttered a sharp whistle between his teeth.

“Everyone, assemble yourselves,” Eddard commanded, his voice booming. “We do not know who our visitors are, it could be nothing and we all risk looking like fools. Kingsgaurd, stand in front of the throne to protect your King. Robert, I do believe it’s best that you sit upon it, while I stand at your side.”

“Shouldn’t Joffrey, be the one at his side?” Cersei asked casually.

Eddard looked at the boy who had caused both of his daughter's so much pain. “If that is what the Prince wants, then I will not rebuff his wishes.”

“Woman, we will do as Ned says,” Robert said gruffly, lumbering himself up upon the throne. “Joffrey can sit on the left side, and you can stand with him if you want. But Ned stands at the right. Everyone, do as he says.”

The people within the throne room all jostled to do as Eddard had commanded, trying to give their best appearance as if nothing was wrong. The Kingsguard all snapped at attention in front of the throne, their hands upon the hilts of their swords, other knights standing at their sides to freely give aid if need be.

Eddard looked them all over briefly before he nodded to the two soldiers who stood by the great doors. Together, the soldiers pulled on the heavy brass handles and opened them.

* * *

 

Aegarys Raelreos strode confidently down the center of the assembled crowd of Westerosi Nobles. The young man was of average height, with shoulder-length dark-brown hair, a neatly trimmed mustache, and had sharp amber eyes. He was dressed in a form-fitting emerald jacket made of velvet that fell to his ankles. Underneath were dark-brown trousers, a matching woolen shirt, and thickly soled black boots. His coat had silver buttons upon the breast, and at his side was a long dagger made of Valyrian steel. Upon the scabbard was the golden double-dragon sigil of the New Valyrian Empire.

The Westerosi Nobles all began to whisper, nervous glances were passed between them as Aegarys walked down their line. He came to a stop about ten paces from in front of the Iron Throne and bowed in the New Valyrian way one would greet a member of the nobility. Aegarys bowed at his waist and extended his clasped hands forward, while also dipping his head.

“ _Nyke greet_ naejot _ao_ ,” Aegarys said, High Valyrian for _I greet you_.

The people within the Westerosi Court were confused by this, some even snickered. Prince Joffrey was one of them, although his laughter was much louder and mocking.

“Silence boy,” Robert barked at his son.

Cersei’s cut her icy gaze upon her husband, before gently placing a hand on Joffrey’s arm in an attempt to tell him to be quiet. Joffrey yanked his arm free but stopped laughing none the less.

The throne room was silent, as it seemed that everyone was holding his or her breaths. Eddard looked at the assembled crowd, and then back to the bowing man. His words sounded foreign, and his accent was quite prominent. 

 _Perhaps he is not allied with the Targaryens after all…_ Eddard wondered to himself.

Eddard cleared his throat. “Welcome…” he said slowly in the Common Tongue. “I am… Lord Eddard… Stark. Hand… of King Robert… Baratheon. Who… are… you?”

Aegarys lifted his head, his eyes fastening upon the man who had spoken. “Aegarys Raelreos.”

“What type of ridiculous name is that?” Joffrey asked rudely.

“A Valyrian name,” Aegarys replied in the Common Tongue.

Eddard’s eyes winded in amazement. “You speak the Common Tongue?”

“Of course, I do, my Lord,” Aegarys replied. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Robert slammed his fist upon his throne. “Let us cut with the pleasantries. I know why you are here. You better tell that whoreson Viserys Targaryen, that he will have to pry the Iron Throne, from my cold, dead hands. I will never surrender it willingly!”

Aegarys tilted his head, giving the illusion of confusion. His ears were pricked up, however, as he knew this information would be useful to his High Lord. “Viserys Targaryen?”

“Do not act as if you do not know that that name,” Robert hissed. “Do not act as if he is not on that ship! How he acquired the money to buy it, I will not know, but how dare he leave Pentos and try to invade my kingdom!”

Aegarys kept his face as blank as he could, although inside his heart was leaping for joy. His High Lord would reward him much for this information. Knowing that he had to keep his happiness hidden, Aegarys began to chuckle softly, covering his mouth.

Cersei glared at the man. “You dare laugh at the King of the Seven Kingdoms? He will have you're heard for this!”

“My Lady,” Aegarys said, continuing to play his part. “I laugh because the Lord King is wrong. I am not sent from this, Viserys Targaryen, whoever he may be. I am afraid that you are mistaken. I have not been sent from him, but the High Lord of the New Valyrian Empire.”

The room once again fell silent, and Eddard frowned, confused. He looked to Robert for clarity, only to be surprised when he saw that Robert’s face had become as pale as milk.

“Rob?” Eddard whispered. “What is wrong?”

“Everyone, out!” Robert barked at the assembled court. “Ned, you and my Council, stay, but everyone else, out!”

The Westerosi court looked at each other nervously but quickly scrambled to do what their king had ordered. Joffrey had moved to follow his father’s command, but Cersei grabbed his arm in a vise-like grip. Cersei hated secrets, unless they were hers, and she had never heard of this ‘New Valyrian Empire’ and didn’t like the sound of it. Inside the assembled Kingsguard, her eyes found her twin brother Jamie’s, who gave her a small nod that he would stay.

Once the room was clear, Robert turned back to the man before him.

“Repeat again, what you said,” Robert said, although his teeth were so tightly clenched the words could hardly be understood.

“I said that I come by the bidding of the High Lord of the New Valyrian Empire,” Aegarys repeated.

“What type of made up name is that?” Cersei scoffed.

“Silence woman,” Robert barked at his wife, his eyes not pulled from Aegarys. “And what does he want with me?”

“That is not for me to reply, my Lord King,” Aegarys replied. “I am but the herald of the High Lord. He has sent his daughter, Princess Nelaemera, to speak with you.”

Robert’s hands were clenched so tightly upon his throne his knuckles matched his white face. He stiffly nodded to Aegarys who bowed again and then backed out of the room to fetch his princess.

Once the doors closed behind the man, Eddard quickly turned to Robert who was now slumped in the throne.

“Rob, who is that man?” Eddard asked. “What is this… New Valyrian Empire? I never have heard of it.”

“Neither have I,” Cersei cut in. “I am your Wife and your Queen.”

“All the more reason for you to not know, as it was none of your business,” Robert snapped at her, before turning to Eddard. “Do you remember our Rebellion? After the Mad King died, Tywin Lannister uncovered a secret, a secret that the damned Targaryens had been keeping since the time of Aegon. There is… another Land of Dragons.”

Eddard could not believe his ears and waited for Robert to burst out laughing. He thought that this was a joke, but his friend neither laughed nor chuckled. Instead, Robert’s face was hard as flint, unmoving, not a wrinkle of a grin.

“Rob, tell me that you jest,” Eddard said. “That is impossible for there to be a Land of Dragons or else we could have heard of it.”

“They were a secret bunch Ned,” Robert said. “Revealing themselves to only whom they believe worthy. Aegon proved his worth, and they gave him money and men, continuing with his descendants. I don’t know what happened between them and the Mad King, but if they had come to his rescue, then it would have been us, broken, bloodied, and dead before the Iron Throne.”

“So, then perhaps they have no loyalty to House Targaryen then,” Petyr Baelish said, interrupting the conversation between the two men. “Forgive me, My Lords, but perhaps we have nothing to fear. Perhaps this Princess is just here to proclaim her loyalty to House Baratheon.”

“You are a fool to think that,” Robert snorted, turning back to Eddard. “Ned, I did not believe the myths about them either. But after our Rebellion once came here, and Tywin met with him. He tried to win them to our side, but somehow the man vanished like mist.”

Cersei listened to all of this with burning ears. She could not believe that her father, the great Lord Tywin Lannister, had hidden this from her. Her father was supposed to tell her everything, as she was after all Queen of Westeros. How could he keep this a secret from her?

Before Eddard could ask another question the doors once again and a white-haired girl strode inside.

* * *

 

“I present to you Princess Nelaemera of House Naelgyreon, second daughter of the Great Rhaemion of House Naelgyreon, Eighth High Lord and the Gods’ Chosen Protector of the New Valyrian Empire,” Aegarys proclaimed.

The grey silk of Nelaemera’s gown whispered against the tile as the young princess strode confidently up the Iron Throne. At her sides were her guards, and behind her trailed her veiled Warriormaids, who had their hands clasped before them.

Nelaemera came to a stop in front of the Iron Throne, her violet eyes sliding from each person that stood in front of her. She ignored the assembled guards and looked at the people who stood on the dais.

There was Lord Eddard Stark, the bed friend of the Usurper. According to the reports sent by the spies, this man lost his brother and father to the Last Targaryen King. This Eddard Stark was from a region called The North, a place supposedly equal to the size of all Westeros.

Nelaemera’s violet eyes settled upon the man who had personally slew the heir to the Iron Throne. Surely this couldn't be him, the famed Robert Baratheon that her Father cursed? This man was severely overweight, messy black hair covered his face and head, and she could see stains of spilled wine and food upon his cloth-of-gold jacket.

_This was the man who had destroyed the most powerful House in Westeros? It cannot be!_

Meanwhile, the remaining members of the Westerosi Court stared at the foreign princess and her party. They took in the richness of their clothing, how heavily armed the guards were, and how they acted around their princess.

All eyes now turned to the Princess Nelaemera, whom no one really knew what to think about. The silken gown that Nelaemera wore was the palest of pinks, and snuggly hugged her body. It was sleeveless, with an attached cape and hood, the latter of which the princess had up. On her forehead was a diadem made of silver, white diamonds and pink diamonds in the shape of a flower. Flowers also decorated the bodice of her gown, as well as her cape. No one could see what shoes she was wearing, but they all knew that it had to be well made.

And then it was the Princess herself.

She was quite tall, standing a head taller that Cersei who was a woman of average height. They could not judge at the moment of her age, but she did not appear to much older than Eddard’s eldest daughter, Sansa. Her skin was unblemished, smooth, and nut brown. Her long hair was the color of molten silver and tumbled down her back in untamed curls. But it was her eyes, those violet eyes, that made Robert clench the arms of his throne.

Violet eyes signified the Old Blood of Valyria, it was a Targaryen trademark, although they had it because of their practice of inbreeding. They were ‘keeping the blood pure,’ or so they claimed.

But as the assembled people stared into Nelaemera’s violet eyes, they each had a different reaction. Some were in wonder, some were in shock, others were infuriated.

This girl was unlike anything they had ever seen, and no one knew what to say or do. Even Cersei, infamous for being sharp-tongued, was quiet. There was one thing that could not be rebutted, and that was the princess’s beauty. She wasn’t the pale, fragile beauties that the Westerosi highborn women were known for. There was a fire within this girl’s eyes, and her arms were quite toned, as if she was used to doing physical work.

Eddard, being the first to recover his senses, cleared his throat and straightened himself. “Welcome, Princess Nelaemera,” he said, slowly in the Common Tongue. “Welcome to… Westeros.” When Nelaemera said nothing, he looked to Aegarys. “Does the child understand?”

Aegarys smiled and shook his head, stepping back so that only Nelaemera stood in front.

The princess’s eyes settled back upon Eddard. “You will quickly find that I understand plenty things,” Nelaemera said, her Common Tongue flawless and without a trace of an accent. “Languages, history… you.”

Eddard arched an eyebrow. “Might I ask, what you are doing here, Princess?”

“I was sent by command of my Father,” Nelaemera replied.

“And why was that?” Eddard asked. “It is, according to my knowledge, that your nation hasn’t come anywhere near Westeros in all our history.”

“That is correct, Lord Stark,” Nelaemera said, dropping a hint that she indeed know more than he thought she did, as after all he had not to hold her his name. “But recently some… events have caught our attention.”

Eddard hid his best to hide his shock at her knowing his name. “What… events are those…?”

Nelaemera inclined her head, a child-like gesture as he lips curved into a smile. “Lord Stark… my companions and I are quite tired from our journey. I ask for what you Westerosi call, Guest Right. At least I believe that is the correct name for the custom.”

Eddard, who was from the North, knew of the ancient and sacred custom. The guest right is a holy law of hospitality, especially in the north. When a guest, be he common-born or noble, eats the food and drinks the drink off a host's table beneath the host's roof, guest right is invoked. Bread and salt are traditional provisions. When invoked, neither the guest nor the host can harm the other for the length of the guest's stay. For either to do so would be to break a sacred covenant that is believed to invoke the wrath of the gods. Both old and new.

“Of course, we extend Guest Right to you, Princess, and your Court,” Eddard said. “I give my Word, as Hand of the King, that you will be safe here during the length of your stay.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark,” Nelaemera said, with a small dip of her head.

Eddard quickly gave commands that Nelaemera is given the best rooms within the Red Keep. Nelaemera began to follow her guards from the room, only to hear Robert’s voice speak out for the first time since she came.

"How long, do you plan on staying here?” Robert asked.

 Nelaemera stopped and didn’t turn around as she replied, “As long as I deem it fit.”

 Then, she was gone.

* * *

 

Nelaemera followed the Westerosi guards up what seemed to be stairs that went on forever before they finally reached a pair of large, double doors, 

“Where are we?” Nelaemera asked the two guards who were their guides.

The men were dressed in red, gold, and black; which according to Nelaemera’s studies were colors of House Lannister.

 _So… House Lannister guards the Red Keep…_ Nelaemera thought to herself. Interesting.

“The best bed chambers within the castle, by order of the Hand of the King,” one of the Guards replied. “The only room that can match it is that of Her Grace the Queen.”

“I see, thank you,” Nelaemera said, nodding as she looked to Harlan and switched her spoken tongue to High Valyrian. “ _Tepagon zirȳ each_ lanta gelebossa _hen āeksion,_ syt _pōja sȳz service_.”

_Give them each two coins of gold, for their excellent service._

Harlan nodded and gestured for the men to go with him, while the rest of Nelaemera’s guards pushed open the doors to what would be her new bedchamber.

It was only half as large as her bedchamber back home at The Capital, and not as well kept. Nelaemera could see that it was going to have to be thoroughly cleaned by her servants before it would be up to her standards.

“It’s a good thing that I brought all that I would ever want, from New Valyria,” Nelaemera said, running her finger against a window pane, she frowned when dust greeted her. “It appears that the Westerosi lack all knowledge of proper cleaning and hygiene.”

“We will begin to clean, and then unload your trunks when they arrive from the ship,” Ralha said. “I suggest that you go and… explore.”

Nelaemera nodded, looking up when she saw Harlan. “I agree. Harlan, you will oversee that this room is cleaned and made to fit my standards. I trust that you won’t disappoint me?”

Harlan smiled and nodded, bowing. “Of course, I won’t, my Princess.”

The clicking of heels alerted the group that someone was approaching. Within moments it was Cersei who rounded the corner and stood before her.

“Queen Cersei,” Nelaemera said, switching to Common Tongue. “What can I do for you?”

Cersei was silent and still a moment, and Nelaemera realized that the older woman was waiting for her to bow. No doubt she was used to it and was expecting for Nelaemera to follow. 

As if I would bow to the descendant of a man who only got his title by trickery… Nelaemera thought. Lann the Clever they called him, more like Lann the Lucky.

“I just wanted to see if you had all that you needed,” Cersei said, clasping her hands together. “As Queen of Westeros, I have to make sure all is well here.”

Nelaemera inclined her head. “I agree, and all shall remain well in Westeros, I do not come here to cause trouble.”

Cersei glanced behind the princess briefly, before looking back at her. “I will not mince words: what is your true reason, of being here?”

Nelaemera grinned. “I already told your husband. I am here by order of my Father, to… judge Westeros, so to speak.”

“Why do we need your judgment?” Cersei asked sharply. “We are the greatest kingdom in the world.”

“In your world perhaps, but the world is much bigger than you would think,” Nelaemera replied. “But, if you must know the whole truth then here it is: I am here to see if Westeros is worthy of an alliance with New Valyria. It was during the time of the Targaryens.”

“Anything that those incestuous, silver-haired monsters could do, House Lannister and House Baratheon can do better,” Cersei said.

“But did House Lannister and House Baratheon conquer Westeros? Did House Lannister and House Baratheon have dragons?” Nelaemera asked. “No, my dear queen, they did neither.”

“The last of the dragons died over 100 years ago,” Cersei spat out, clenching her hands tightly together. “There are no more dragons.”

“In Westeros perhaps, but in New Valyria…” Nelaemera chuckled. “My sister has a dragon, as does my Father, my niece, my nephew; and others within the Empire. Dragons might have died here, but in New Valyria, they flourish.”

Cersei’s mouth flapped open and closed like a gasping fish. “If that is so, then we should be allies then.”

Nelaemera smiled. “And that is why I am here, to see if you are worthy of such a thing. Now, if your excuse me, I had much to do here. My guard will show you the way out.”

Nelaemera didn’t say anything as she turned around, clearly dismissing her. Cersei was frozen in shock, no one had ever dared speak to her like that before, so who did this girl think she was?

Cersei turned sharply on her heel and stormed off.

Nelaemera had apparently made a dangerous enemy, so had Cersei Lannister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR NOTE
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this new chapter, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Please don't hesitate to comment or like this chapter, although I would prefer your feedback as love to know what you think of the book.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> —Rae


	5. Part I — Chapter V

Word spread like wildfire within the Red Keep that a silver-haired princess had arrived in King’s Landing. Rumors swirled that the princess was sent to avenge the slaughter of the Targaryen family, or claim the throne for herself.

 

Servants began arriving at Nelaemera’s chambers unannounced, claiming to be sent by their Lords or Ladies, all clamoring to catch a peek of the unknown princess.

 

Harlan commanded the guards who had come to stand at attention at her room and never leave. Five dozen had come along with Nelaemera, and Harlan, as their leader, ordered that six would stand outside of her chambers from sunup to sunset, with them rotating duty every three hours to prevent them from getting tired. Six more would guard her inner chambers, while Nelaemera’s Warriormaids would guard her whenever she bathed or went to the privy.

 

Nelaemera found all of this amusing, as they had only been within King’s Landing for a day, but she also knew that this was quite serious and she had a job to do here. She had stayed inside her chambers for the first full day since she arrived, mainly resting and overseeing the unpacking of her things. After an intense scrubbing, dusting, and new decorations, they had turned this sorry bedchamber into something that was almost worthy of her presence.

 

But Nelaemera was growing bored. She needed to explore, she needed to see what this Red Keep had to offer, and on the second morning of her stay, the opportunity came. Nelaemera was gently stirred from her sleep by Ralha, who presented her princess with three letters. They all were written on simple pieces of parchment but were bound by three different wax seals: a grey wolf, a golden lion, and a black stag.

 

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Nelaemera walked to the nearby window seat and sat on the plump red velvet cushions. Opening them one by one, Nelaemera quickly read them over and realized that they were invitations to share a meal with the three Houses that were within the Red Keep.

 

The first letter was from Eddard Stark, who was inviting her to share a morning meal with him and his daughters. He claimed that as the Hand of the King, it was his responsibility to wholeheartedly welcome her to King’s Landing, and would like to introduce her to his daughters, Sansa and Arya.

 

The second letter was from Queen Cersei. She wrote to invite Nelaemera to share an afternoon meal with her, her ladies, and her children. Cersei said that her eldest son Joffrey would be there, and thought that Nelaemera would like to talk to him.

 

The last letter was from King Robert, although it was written in Eddard Stark’s hand. He was inviting Nelaemera to share an evening feast with him, his family, Eddard’s family, and the Small Council. The letter claimed that he wanted to announce something special, although refrained from saying what it was.

 

Interesting letters… Nelaemera thought to herself, before looking up to Ralha. “They are invitations, to share meals with the three Houses here.”

 

“Are you going to go?” Ralha asked.

 

“Of course, I’m going to go,” Nelaemera replied. “It would be rude to refuse.”

 

Ralha crossed her arms. “What is on your mind, Mera? You are hiding something…”

 

Nelaemera smiled innocently. “I do not know what you are talking about. I will take Lana and Sirylea with me if that will make you more comfortable. Oh, and Alyhna too.”

 

The Regal New Valyrian Hound was asleep by Nelaemera’s bed, having been brought in last night.

 

“I know that you would go alone if I permitted it,” Ralha sighed. “But yes, take all three of them. Perhaps the sight of Alyhna will be protection enough.”

 

Nelaemera nodded. “Glad you agree. Now, I need to decide what I shall wear, and how I will braid my hair.”

 

Ralha inclined her head. “You are going to have your hair braided? You hardly ever do.”

 

“I know,” Nelaemera said with a shrug. “But you never know when you might have to fight.”

 

Her Warriormaids quickly filled the wooden tub that was inside the chamber with boiling water. The tub was significantly inferior compared to Nelaemera’s stone one back home, and it had metal pipes that would be used to both drain and fill the tub. It could be filled within fifteen minutes; here it took Nelaemera’s Warriormaids almost an hour.

 

Nelaemera preferred to bathe herself, although she was not ashamed of her naked form. In New Valyria the body was a natural thing, but Nelaemera sensed that in Westeros it might be the opposite. She was glad to have brought her soaps and shampoos, the latter of which she used to wash her hair before Lana stepped forward with a glass jar of scented oils. Opening it, she poured the oil onto Nelaemera’s head and began to massage and comb it through her scalp, before grabbing a towel that she used to wrap around herself and carefully step out of the tub.

 

Her maids all stepped forward, the half-a-dozen girls all fussing over her as they prepared her for the way. They dressed her in a sleeveless, red and white dress that was high in the front—reaching just below her knees—and then trailed behind her. The top of the dress was made of snow-white satin, with red lace forming a sort of ‘jacket’ that was attached to the white satin and tied in the front in a zigzag pattern. The jacket opened in a heart-shape and was designed in a way that mimicked blooming roses. The bottom of her dress also mimicked rose petals, with the red ombreing just above the hemline.

 

Under this, Nelaemera wore tightly fitted white trousers and high-heeled red boots that had thick soles which padded her feet if she had to run. Her hair was divided into six sections, braided, and then braided again. Her maids interwoven in red and gold thread, along with rubies within her silver hair, although they let two locks fall to frame her face.

 

Nelaemera looked at herself in the mirror briefly, her sharp eyes looking over herself for any flaws. She wasn’t nervous about this meeting, but she was apprehensive. This Eddard Stark might be a valuable alley to her House, or he could be the most terrible enemy, Nelaemera was not sure yet. But she wanted to make a good impression none the less.

 

“Alyhna,” Nelaemera said, calling to her Hound. “Come here, girl…”

 

The massive beast quickly rose from where she lay and hurried to where her Mistress stood. Sitting down on her haunches, Alyhna still towered at least a head over Nelaemera, although all knew she was a gentle giant unless provoked.

 

Nelaemera grabbed a nearby brush and began to stroke her Hound’s fur as she spoke to her. “We are in a new place, Alyhna. So that means that we must be careful. I know I can trust you to watch over me?”

 

Alyhna barked to confirm it, the sound so loud that it rung Nelaemera’s ears and made her laugh.

 

“Good girl. Although, if anyone weren’t awake yet, they surely would be now…”

 

Nelaemera refrained from putting on Alyhna’s saddle, although she ordered one of her maids to put it by the door, in case the itch to ride did come upon her. As for everyone else, they knew what to do, and Nelaemera nodded to her two chosen Warriormaids who followed her, as they left the chamber.

* * *

 

The letter told Nelaemera to come to what was known as the Tower of the Hand. It was where Eddard Stark and his family lived, and Nelaemera thought that it should be easy for him to defend if he ever was attacked. However, the Stark Guards didn’t look heavily armed, Nelaemera noticed, nor did they seem to be on guard. They bowed as she walked, having no doubt been told that she was coming, although their eyes grew wide when they saw Alyhna.

 

‘Good,’ Nelaemera thought. ‘That is the response I want.’

 

It wasn’t a long walk to the dining hall, and as Nelaemera rounded the corner, she could hear loud arguing from inside.

 

“Why do I have to wear this ridiculous dress?” a young voice was asking.

 

“Because, it’s to meet the Princess,” another voice replied, sounding angry. “So, don’t embarrass me.”

 

“Embarrass you? Weren’t you just afraid she was some Targaryen?” the first voice asked, founding taunting.

 

“Shut up, Arya,” the second voice snapped. “I mean it, or else I’m telling Father.”

 

“You two sound exactly how my older sister an I do,” Nelaemera chuckled, as she rounded the corner.

 

Nelaemera found herself face to face with two girls who couldn’t look more different. The first one, the older one, was tall, with red hair that fell to her midback in loose waves. Her eyes were bright blue, and her skin was quite fair, although Nelaemera could see a band of freckles across her nose. The second girl was much shorter, and much had been the younger one, with dark-brown hair, grey eyes, and tanned skin, no doubt from being outside. Standing behind them was a woman dressed in dark grey with a drape over her head, although it wasn’t like the veils Nelaemera’s Warriormaids wore.

 

All three quickly dropped into deep curtsies, although Nelaemera waved such things away.

 

“Please, stand,” Nelaemera said. “I find there no reason for you to bow, as, after all, we have just met. Tell me, what are your names?”

 

Both girls stood and looked at each other. However, it was the younger one who spoke first. Her eyes had fallen upon Alyhna, and she shrieked with amazement.

 

“What is that?!” the Young One yelled practically on the top of her lungs, running to the Hound.

 

“Arya, stop! Wait!” the Older One cried. “You don’t know if it’s dangerous!”

 

Nelaemera watched, amused, as the younger child ran up to Alyhna with eyes are dilated as a cat. Alyhna, who towered over the girl, tilted her head in confusion but stood still as the girl began to crawl all over her. She poked and prodded, all the while asking a hundred questions at once.

 

“What’s its name? Is it a boy or a girl? How fast can it run? Can you ride it? What other colors does it come in?”

 

Nelaemera couldn’t stop herself from bursting out laughing. “Her name is Alyhna, and she is a Regal New Valyrian Hound.”

 

“Is that like a Direwolf?” the Young Sister asked. “How did she get so big?”

 

“Arya, you’re embarrassing me in front of the Princess,” the Older Sister hissed under her breath, before turning to Nelaemera. “Please forgive my little sister, she’s an idiot…”

 

“It’s alright,” Nelaemera said, smiling softly. “She’s curious when I find adorable. Arya that is a nice name. What is yours?”

 

“Sansa… My Lady,” Sansa quickly added.

 

Nelaemera shrugged. “My sister is a Lady, I prefer to think of myself as something different.”

 

“So, you’re not… a Targaryen?” Sansa boldly asked, unable to hold back the question any longer.

 

Nelaemera shook her head. “No, I am not. In fact, my House is much older than theirs.”

 

“I told you,” Arya said, grinning at her sister, before turning her attention back to Alyhna. “You didn’t answer my question, can you ride her?”

 

“Arya, that is enough,” the Woman in Grey said, bowing her head to Nelaemera. “Forgive her, My Lady, but Lady Arya is known to be quiet… troublesome and strong-willed.”

 

“It’s alright,” Nelaemera said. “I find it refreshing. Where is Lord Stark?”

 

“Father had to go meet with the King,” Sansa replied. “But he asked that we entertain you until he returns.”

 

Nelaemera nodded, finding the situation pleasing. It would give her time to meet the Stark Daughters, and get to know them. Arya was quickly catching her interest in a good way.

 

After Nelaemera sat down at the table, the Woman in Grey dipped her head. “What can I get you to drink, my Lady?”

 

“Hot water,” Nelaemera replied. “And make sure that it's still boiling when you bring it, thank you.”

 

The woman thought the request was odd but quickly left to do as she said.

 

Nelaemera watched her leave, before looking to the two girls. “Why does she dress like that?”

 

“She’s our Septa,” Sansa replied.

 

“What is a Septa?” Nelaemera asked.

 

The two girls looked at each other, confused. “She’s a… female member of the Faith of the Seven,” Sansa finally answered.

 

“The Seven are your gods, right?” Nelaemera asked.

 

“Noth really,” Arya replied, stuffing a sausage into her mouth. “Father has taught us about the Old Gods.”

 

“Arya…” Sansa whispered.

 

“No, No it’s alright,” Nelaemera said. “Your gods intrigue me.”

 

“Who do you worship in… where ever you are from?” Sansa asked.

 

“We have many gods,” Nelaemera replied. “However, if I'm specific, my House worships a combination of Valyrian Gods and Summer Islander Gods. My mother is from Braavos and worships their gods. There is no such thing as a single god in charge of New Valyria.”

 

The Septa returned with the boiling water, which Nelaemera accepted, and thanked the woman. Lana stepped forward with a small box, which she extended to the princess, who took it but continued talking.

 

“I find the motion of a single god to be limiting, if you ask me,” Nelaemera remarked. “How could one god be in charge of so many things?”

 

The Sansa and Arya were listening to her, but their eyes were fastened upon what she was doing. Nelaemera opened the box and pulled out a delicate-looking white-and-gold tea set. Tea was the primary drink that was drunk within New Valyria, as wine was considered mainly for the nobility. The most common tea was known as Black Pearl which was drunk by farmhands to some members of royalty, while the most expensive was known as the Crowing Dragon; which only members of the royal family could drink.

 

Nelaemera’s favorite was a sweet tea that was known as Lunar Mint. Carefully, she placed the tea leaves within the pot and then poured the boiling water inside. Swirling around the liquid inside with particular stirring rod, Nelaemera waited a couple of minutes before pouring it into her cup.

 

“What is that?” Arya asked, confused by what Nelaemera was doing.

 

“It’s called tea,” Nelaemera replied. “Would you like some?”

 

“Is there any wine, within it?” the Septa asked.

 

“Of course not,” Nelaemera replied. She didn’t like wine, even though as a princess she had the best wines in the Empire at her fingertips. “A babe could drink it.”

 

“I want to try some!” Arya asked, reaching for a cup.

 

“As would I,” Sansa said, although she spoke softly.

 

This girl wasn’t anything like Sansa expected. From the stories she had heard from the servants, Sansa thought this girl would be a monster because she came from the same horrid land the Targaryen’s did. But… this Nelaemera didn’t seem like a threat.

 

The doors opened, and Eddard Stark strode in, and both girls quickly rushed to him. Eddard froze in his steps the moment he saw Alyhna, but the Hound didn’t give him a second glance. Instead, she laid behind her Mistress, closing her eyes and falling asleep.

 

“Forgive me, My Lady,” Eddard said to Nelaemera. “But the King called upon me, and I could not refuse.”

 

“All is well, Lord Stark,” Nelaemera replied. “Your daughters are lovely ladies to talk too.”

 

“Do you see her pet dog, Father?” Arya asked Eddard. “It’s as big as a horse! Maybe bigger.”

 

“Yes… I see that “Eddard said, his grey eyes upon Alyhna. “She is quite large…”

 

“The princess was sharing with us something called tea,” Sansa said. “It does taste quite delicious Father, would you like some.”

 

“I wouldn’t want to impose on the Princess,” Eddard said.

 

“You aren’t imposing at all,” Nelaemera said. “My Warriormaid can pour you a cup.”

 

Arya watched as Lana stepped forward and began to do as Nelaemera’s instructed. “Why is she covered like that? She’s dressed funny.”

 

“Arya!” Eddard scolded. He took his seat and looked to Nelaemera. “Forgive my daughter, My Lady. She speaks before she thinks.”

 

“A trait that I find admirable,” Nelaemera said. “She’s not covered up, Young Arya, but rather veiled. Lana is a Warriormaid, a woman bound to me and my service until I die.”

 

“So… she’s like a knight then?” Arya asked.

 

“New Valyrian knights are different than your Westerosi,” Nelaemera replied. “But to be simple about it, yes, she is. Lana, and the other women you see dressed like her, were chosen for me at birth. We were raised together, ate and trained together. I trust them with my life.”

 

“Is life much different in your Empire, than here?” Eddard asked.

 

“To some extent,” Nelaemera replied. “In many ways to be honest, but I won’t bore you with the details. I was happy to receive your letter, Lord Stark. If I hadn’t, then I would have come here anyway to speak to you.”

 

“About what, My Lady?” Eddard asked.

 

“On your stance on how much you trust the Lannister’s,” Nelaemera said.

 

The air at the table grew silent, and Eddard looked to the Septa. “Can you please take the girls away? I do believe that the Princess and I should speak alone.”

 

The Septa nodded and quickly ushered both girls away, although Arya looked over her shoulder again several times before they both were lead out.

* * *

 

Once they were gone, Eddard Stark sighed heavily and turned to face Nelaemera. “What makes you believe, that the Lannister’s are not trustworthy?”

 

Nelaemera sats back in her chair, drumming her fingers on the armrests. “Because I have been here for only twenty-four hours and I have seen things that… worry me. For starters it’s the queen’s family that has an army here, showing their strength. The son and heir of said house serve as a Kingsguard. A foolish position in my opinion.”

 

“Jamie Lannister cannot father a child or hold titles,” Eddard pointed out. “He swore an oath.”

 

“He also swore an oath to protect the Last Targaryen King,” Nelaemera remarked.

 

Eddard flinched. “I was wondering when you would mention the Mad King…”

 

“I will not mince words with you, Lord Stark,” Nelaemera said. “I am here to see if this kingdom is worthy of New Valyria. The Targaryen’s were our allies for over 300-years, the current Royal House is less than sixteen years old, and I already see cracks within it. I like you, Lord Stark, I really do. You seem like an honorable man who wants what is best for his family. But at the same time, I find you utterly naïve in the matters of politics.”

 

“I will not rebuff you there, My Lady,” Eddard said. “I did not desire to become Hand of the King, but once my mentor died, I knew that Robert would come and ask me to fill his boots. I could not refuse my King.”

 

“Of course, you can,” Nelaemera said. “I do it all the time. Well, then again my High Lord is my father, so I do believe I have some wiggle room there.”

 

Eddard couldn’t stop a chuckle that came from his chest. “As a father, I do understand. My daughters have me wrapped around their fingers, and I would die for them.”

 

“As a father should,” Nelaemera said, smiling softly. “They really are good girls. Sansa is a proper lady, while Arya… I see a fire in her eyes.”

 

“I plan on letting her have dancing lessons soon,” Eddard said, although he had another type of dancing in mind.

 

Nelaemera inclined her head but did not press the subject. “The Queen asked me to join her and her children for a noon meal. I considered refusing, but changed my mind.”

 

Eddard sighed heavily. “My Lady, I hope you are not going to intentionally cause trouble.”

 

Nelaemera’s lips curved into a smirk. “I might… and then I might not be, Lord Stark. That all depends on several factors, but I won’t trouble you with such details. Before I have the meeting with the Queen, I want to explore the Keep, and I also have something I want to ask you.”

 

“What is that?” Eddard asked.

 

“I want to sit on what you call here, a Small Council,” Nelaemera said. “Whatever is discussed for the wellbeing and future of Westeros, I want to sit and listen.”

 

Eddard looked at her nervously. He didn’t know what this princess had planned, but he eventually shrugged. What was the worse thing that she could do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this new chapter, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Please don't hesitate to comment or like this chapter, although I would prefer your feedback as love to know what you think of the book.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> —Rae


	6. Part I — Chapter VI

If there was one thing that Nelaemera could give King’s Landing credit for, was it’s warm climate. Apparently, in Westeros, the seasons were bizarre and lasted longer than what was believed to be normal. For example, it has been summer in the South for several years; generations have lived and died having never seen a flake of snow.

This didn’t happen in New Valyria. In the Empire, there were real seasons, although depending on the region of where you were, depended on how strong said seasons were. In the north it snowed more frequently then it did in the south, while the east and the west were equally balanced. Still, it snowed in all the regions no matter what. Nelaemera learned that this enabled flora and fauna to grow and evolve, as well as giving the ground a rest until the next harvest.

Here, in Westeros, most of the farming came from a region known as the Reach, a strange name according to Nelaemera. House Tyrell controlled it in their caster of Highgarden, and Nelaemera made a mental note about that.

The New Valyrian Princess crept through the halls of the Red Keep, her Warriormaids padding behind her, while Nelaemera’s hand rested upon the back of her Hound. The sound of cheering and laughing cause Nelaemera’s attention, who decided to follow the noise. When she rounded the corner, Nelaemera saw that it was an open courtyard, in which several of the Lannister soldiers were gathered. They were in a circle around two people, the song of clashing swords filled Nelaemera’s ears as she realized that two men were sparring.

Nelaemera watched in silence a moment, judging the caliber of the men who were within the circle. One was in full armor, while the other was dressed in silks and leather. He fought holding his sword with two hands, and danced around his appoint, apparently playing with him. By the way, the men were cheering for this man, Nelaemera knew that he had to be someone important, but when he spun around briefly she caught sight of familiar looking green eyes.

‘That man was Jamie Lannister,’ Nelaemera realized. ‘The alleged greatest swordsman in all of Westeros, and the queen’s twin brother. He was also the one who personally stuck his sword through the back of the Last Targaryen King…’

Nelaemera could see why some women might find him attractive, as he had straight blonde hair, sultry green eyes, and chiseled cheekbones. But at the same time, Nelaemera found all of his imperfections, such as his eyes appeared to be too close together, and the teeth within his dashing smile were slightly yellow. This Jamie Lannister looked almost too ethereal, too much like the knights of the romantic stories younger girls dreamed of.

Jamie Lannister shoved his opponent to the ground and pointed his sword at his throat, laughing heartily. “Looks like I have bested you again.”

“No man is your equal, My Lord,” the soldier said, chuckling.

“Then perhaps a woman shall be,” Nelaemera said, speaking for the first time.

All the laughter fell silent as the gathered men turned to look at her for the first time. Some of the men took a couple of steps back, no doubt they were nervous around her. Nelaemera was unlike anyone they had ever seen before, and there was an air of mystery around her. Not only that, but there was a massive wolf-hound at her side…

Jamie’s green eyes regarded this small slip of a girl, looking at her silver hair, and slowly traveling down her body before settling at her well-made black boots. This girl was his enemy, at least that was what Cersei told him last night. She could threaten all that their house had founded in Westeros, and they couldn’t let that happen.

Jamie wasn’t sure about this though. He had written to his father the night the girl arrived and asked for his guidance on what to do. No doubt the great Tywin Lannister would tell his son to befriend the girl, to use her until she had nothing to offer them; but Jamie didn’t know how to do that. So, he decided to play the part of the dutiful knight.

He bowed flamboyantly, and flashed her, his signature dazzling smile. “Greetings, My Lady. What was it that you said?”

Nelaemera ignored his question and instead asked one of her own. “Do you all practice out here?”

“Yes, we do,” Jamie said.

“And do you all leave yourselves open in combat?” Nelaemera asked.

Jamie looked at his gathered men. “I do not know what you mean, My Lady.”

“Your spacing,” Nelaemera explained. “Your feet are far too apart, and you leave yourself open a bit on your right side. I am guessing the left is your dominant hand?”

Jamie blanched, unable to believe what he was hearing. Here was this small slip of a girl, walking about spacing, swords, and ‘leaving yourself open.’ How in the Seven Hells did a girl know this?

“I… I do not know what you mean, My Lady,” Jamie stammered.

Nelaemera crossed her arms. “If this is the best of the Lannister army, then I am greatly disappointed. I was told it was the best in Westeros.”

Jamie flushed red and quickly took the bait of her taunting. “We are the best in Westeros, perhaps in the world! House Lannister’s army is the pride of my Father, as he personally saw its rise.”

Nelaemera’s lips curved into a smirk. “Good. Then perhaps you would want to show me then.”

Jamie looked around. “Unless you brought an army with you, My Lady, I am unsure on how you plan for us to show you our prowess.”

Nelaemera chuckled. “You better dream that the New Valyrian Army never lands upon these shores. But no, that’s not what I meant. I want to see your skill, you, and two of your best men, here and now.”

“You… desire to watch us spar, My Lady?” Jamie asked.

“Not watch, you will spar with us,” Nelaemera said. “My ladies and I.”

* * *

 

Jamie could not stop the laughter that erupted from his chest, and his men followed suit. The thought of a woman fighting, a princess no less, almost made him fall onto the ground and roll around. This small slip of a girl couldn’t beat him, he was too big, too strong, Jamie was a man. She wouldn’t last five minutes with him.

“Surely, you jest,” Jamie said, finally managing to catch his breath. “I can not fight you.”

“Why? Are you afraid of losing your honor by being defeated by a mere girl?” Nelaemera challenged.

Jamie instantly stopped laughing and bristled at the mention of losing his honor. “No, that’s not it,” he said through clenched teeth. “I just do not want to hurt you.”

Now it was Nelaemera’s turn to laugh, and she did it heartily. “Ser, you won’t be able to harm a hair on my head. Now, do you accept my challenge or not?”

“Of course, I don’t accept it,” Jamie said.

“Then I guess House Lannister, really is nothing but cowards…” Nelaemera said, egging him on.

“My Lord,” one of the soldiers said. “Allow me, to defend the name of House Lannister.”

“I cannot allow you to fight a princess…” Jamie said although it was a half-truth.

At that moment, Jamie wanted nothing more than to shove his sword down the throat of this haughty princess. Apparently, she did not know her place, and Jamie wanted nothing more than to teach it to her. But at the same time, Jamie had enough common sense to know that if he did such a thing, then it would provoke an international incident.

“He won’t be fighting me,” Nelaemera said. “But instead, he will be fighting one of my Ladies. So, are you ready?”

Jamie looked to the soldier who had volunteered and finally relented. The woman who stepped forward was dressed head to toe in drapes and veils and didn’t appear to have a weapon on her body. He could see a pair of blue eyes through the veil slits, and she was quite slender. The woman was giggling and turned to speak to her Princess in their musical language.

“Don’t kill the woman, alright?” Jamie whispered to the man finally. “But… teach that girl to mind her tongue. Alright?”

The Soldier nodded and turned to the Lady he was to fight, drawing his sword. Everyone took a couple of steps back to give the sparing couple room, although their eyes stared at them intently. The Lannister Soldier began to circle Sirylea, as she was the one who had volunteered to fight. The Warriormaid stood still and seemed to be ignoring him, making the Soldier looked to Jamie for guidance.

That was his mistake,

“ _Nābēmagon_!” Nelaemera commanded, High Valyrian for _Attack_.

At the word of her Princess, Sirylea spun around with the grace of the dancer, her hands reaching within her robes. From inside she produced a thick black whip that had a barbed tip that looked to be made from steel. Twirling the whip over her head, a thunderous crack echoed within the courtyard as she snapped it. The Lannister Solider had a moment barely to realize that she had tossed it out, the ends wrapped around his wrists and biding them together.

With a harsh yank, Sirylea pulled the man toward her and lifting her knee. Unknown to the man but under her robes Sirylea wore light armor, with Valyrian Steel placed in vital areas. As the man came flying forward, his face smashed into her knee guard, breaking his nose. The Soldier fell to the ground and howled with pain, blood pouring from the gaps in his fingers as he attempted to stop the bleeding.

None of the Lannister Soldiers or Jamie could move, or even breathe. This girl had defeated one of their soldiers in less than five minutes.

‘If the Servant is like this… how is the Princess?’ Jamie wondered to himself.

“Is that the best, that House Lannister has?” Nelaemera asked. “If so, then I am severely unimpressed.”

Jamie swallowed. “What is it that you want, My Lady?”

“I want to duel you,” Nelaemera said. “And we are going to do it now.”

“I… I cannot duel a princess…” Jamie said, eating humble pie. “I am too lowly born.”

“Yes, you are,” Nelaemera said. “To me at least. But you will duel me, and I know how to make you.”

Jamie watched as one of her servants produced a scabbard, and the Princess gripped the handle. The sword that Nelaemera pulled free couldn’t be more than a meter-and-a-half long, with a blade that was the color of fresh blood. The pommel was forged into the shape of a dragon’s claw, with the cross guard being the dragon’s mouth; so, in a way, the red blade was the tongue.

Jamie knew that the sword was made of Valyrian steel, and his Lannister pride screamed at him to possess it.

“I offer you this, Lord Lannister,” Nelaemera said, holding up her sword. “If you win our duel, then I will give you my prized sword. If you win, then you give me yours. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Jamie said, almost as soon as the words had left Nelaemera’s mouth.

A shadow of a smile crossed Nelaemera’s lips. “Good. Then, prepare yourself.”

Jamie watched as she placed the sword behind her back, and smiled at him. “I’m ready. You can begin.”

Jamie did not know what type of game this girl was playing at, but the hunger to possess that sword silenced all of his common sense. Jamie could just imagine how proud his father would be when he presented the sword to him, House Lannister would have a Valyrian sword again. Jamie could tell Cersei tonight when they met in their secret rooms. After he had satisfied her in bed, he would reveal the sword and tell her how he bested the Valyrian-blooded bitch who did not know her place.

Yes. The roar of the House Lannister lion would be heard today.

Gripping his sword in both hands, Jamie ran at Nelaemera, swinging it in a wide arch. When the young lord blinked, however, mere moments before his sword was supposed to make contact; Jamie was shocked to discover that his sword had touched nothing but air. The Princess had disappeared. Confused, Jamie looked around but caught the glance of a silver hair behind him. He barely had time to raise his sword to block a swift blow by Nelaemera, who grinned at him.

Jamie grunted, and quickly shifted in using his weight, but Nelaemera was pressing back against him. It suddenly came to Jamie that the Girl was holding her sword with one hand while the other was behind her back. Her face betrayed no emotion as Nelaemera pulled herself away and stood still, putting her sword once again behind her back as she waited for him to make the next move. Frowning, Jamie once again gripped his sword tightly, but this time began to circle her, looking for an opening. The sunlight gleamed on the sword and Jamie once again lunged at her.

Nelaemera, who had been standing idle, finally decided that she was done playing with her pray. Gathering herself, she vaulted over his head, landing softly behind him. Dropping down she leg swept him, causing Jamie to crash to the ground. As she raised her sword, Jamie quickly rolled away as she stabbed down repeatedly, just a hairsbreadth of cutting his face.

Jamie scrambled to his feet and slashed at Nelaemera with his sword, but she merely parried it with her own. Jamie cut at her again, and once again Nelaemera directly parried it. The sounds of their clashing swords sang loudly in the air, and by now a small crowd of servants and other minor nobles had gathered to watch.

To prove a point, Nelaemera dropped her sword to her side, but before Jamie could process this, she charged at him with an unnatural speed. Caught off guard, Jamie slashed and stabbed with his weapon, trying anything to keep her at a distance. To his amazement, Nelaemera slapped his sword away with her palms in rapid succession, before catching the blade itself between her hands.

Jamie grunted, putting all his weight into driving his sword home, but Nelaemera abruptly let it go. She moved just out of the way as Jamie’s sword stabbed the ground. Sensing Nelaemera behind him, Jamie opened his gloved hand and spun around, striking Nelaemera hard across the face.

Nelaemera didn’t move for several seconds before she spun herself around as quick as lighting and kicked him square in the jaw. Jamie fell backward but scrambled back to his feet. He could see a fire within Nelaemera’s eyes, a fire that he feared.

Calling on his training, Jamie began to dance around Nelaemera’s slashing and stabbing once again, again looking for an opening. Nelaemera backflipped twice to give them some space, before gathering herself and vaulting once again over Jamie’s head and landing behind him. Putting together her pointer and intext finger, Nelaemera delivered a series of five, painful, and quick jabs to the back of Jamie’s neck, his spine, and under the unarmored parts of his arms.

Jamie unleashed a shriek of pain as he crumbled to the ground, his sword dropping from his grip as he fell face-first into the dirt. His whole body felt as if it was on fire and his arms felt limp like noodles. For a moment all he could see was the spinning sky above him before Nelaemera appeared. He watched as the Princess slowly knelt down, and put her mouth to his ear.

 “You will feel fine in a couple of hours, as all I did was disrupt certain… pathways within your body. Thank you for the lovely sword, I’m sure your father will be happy knowing you gave it to me. Oh, and if you ever slap me again, I will kill you. Goodbye, Lord Lannister”

 Standing up, Nelaemera grabbed both swords and quickly left the courtyard with her Ladies and Hound.

* * *

 

Cersei was in her chambers twisting Myrcella’s hair when a Lannister Soldier knocked furiously on her door. 

The Queen ignored the knocks but waved a hand to one of her Handmaidens to go and see what the man wanted. The Young Woman hurried to the door and opened it, spoke with the man, then rushed to Cersei’s side and knelt before her queen.

“Your Grace,” the Handmaid said. “Forgive my interruption, but… it’s your Brother. Lord Jamie.”

Cersei’s hand froze, her green eyes cutting sharply to the Handmaiden. “What is wrong with my brother?”

“There had been an incident,” the Handmaiden said. “He is injured…”

Cersei rose instantly from her seat, although her fingers were tangled within her daughter’s hair now. Young Myrcella let out a shriek of pain, but Cersei did not care, she had one thought on her mind: Jamie.

Stalking down the hallways, all backed out of Cersei’s path as she was lead to Jamie’s rooms. As she burst inside, Cersei found Pycelle, the Grand Maester, and his servants were circled around Jamie’s bed. Her brother laid on it, although he didn’t look natural. He looked to…relaxed.

“C…Cersei…” Jamie stammered when he saw her enter.

Cersei wanted nothing more than to rush into his arms, to send everyone out; but she knew that she couldn’t. They were in public, and no one could assume anything was going on between them.

“What is wrong with him?” Cersei asked Pycelle.

“I do not know, Your Grace,” Pycelle replied.

Cersei rolled her eyes at the idiot “What do you mean that you do not know? You’re the Grand Maester. You are supposed to know everything about the human body.”

“That is just it, Your Grace,” Pycelle said. “I examined your Brother, and nothing is physically wrong with him. He should be able to move, to talk unslurred. But he isn’t.”

Cersei arched an eyebrow. “One of my Handmaidens said he was in a fight. Could it be he was injured.”

“The… Princess…” Jamie slurred.

Cersei’s ears perked up. “What did you say?”

“The…Princess…” Jamie repeated slowly. “She… did this… to… me…”

Cersei’s blood boiled within her veins and without a word she stormed from the room. She knew precisely where the Valyrian-blooded Bitch’s chambers were, and she threw open the doors without ceremony.

Nelaemera was sitting on a couch, a sharpening stone in her hand that she ran against Jamie’s sword. Her guards and Warriormaids all snapped at attention, their weapons in their hands. Alyhna, who was at Nelaemera’s feet, leaped to her feet, her hackled raised as she snarled loudly.

At the sight of the massive Hound, all the courage left Cersei’s body, as the memory of what happened on the Kingsroad flashed before her eyes. Cersei had terrible nightmares since that night, of Stark direwolves hunting her down and tearing her apart. Is it possible this Hound was sent to avenge their murder?

“Queen Cersei,” Nelaemera said, not turning around. “To what do I owe this honor?”

Cersei swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to savage her air of superiority. She was a Lannister, she was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. This was a child, this was a princess, so technically, Cersei outranked her.

“I have just come from visiting my brother,” Cersei said, although her voice wavered. “What did you do to him?”

Nelaemera inclined her head. “Oh, you mean Ser Jamie. We had a duel, he lost.”

“Impossible,” Cersei hissed. “He is the best swordsman in the land!”

“In your land perhaps,” Nelaemera replied.

Cersei grit her teeth and took a step forward, the New Valyrian Royal Guards all formed a tighter circle around their Princess. Alyhna wrapped herself around her Mistress, her lips pulled back to reveal dagger-long fangs.

Nelaemera smiled to herself and finally stood to face the Queen, her hands tightly gripped on Jamie’s sword. “My Queen, several nobles and servants saw the duel. I won it honorably.”

“You think that you hold all the cards, don’t you?” Cersei spat.

“I know I do,” Nelaemera replied simply.

“You don’t,” Cersei said. “My father is Tywin Lannister, do you think he will let the murder of his eldest son go unpunished?”

“I didn’t kill him,” Nelaemera laughed, resting the sword against her wall.

“He lays near death,” Cersei says. “Paralyzed.”

“He is stunned,” Nelaemera retorted. “Within a couple of hours, he will be perfectly fine.”

“I command that you fix him now!” Cersei barked. “I, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms…”

“Dare to command the Princess of the New Valyrian Empire?” Nelaemera cut in, all light-heartiness gone. “Do you have any idea who you are talking to?”

“A bitch who doesn’t know her place,” Cersei said, unable to hold back her feeling anymore.

Nelaemera’s lips curved into a smirk as she slowly crossed the room until she was mere inches from Cersei’s face. “Call me what you want, but I hold all the cards within my hand. This Bitch, as you claim me to be, didn’t tell you the full reason why I am here. I’m not here for masks or balls. I’m here to decide on wither my father will invade Westeros, to rain down Fire and Blood until all that remains from House Lannister and House Baratheon is nothing but ash.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this new chapter, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Please don't hesitate to comment or like this chapter, although I would prefer your feedback as love to know what you think of the book.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> —Rae


	7. Part I — Chapter VII

Harlan was ready to defend his Princess with his life the moment the Lannister woman burst into her chambers. His hands gripped his sword tightly, his body tensed. As he listened to the two of them talk, Harlan was surprised at how well Nelaemera was handling the political world of Westeros. Nelaemera wasn't born to be a queen, neither was she raised to be one, but then again New Valyria didn't have Kings or Queen.

They had High Lords, a title that Harlan always thought was superior. Anyone within the Royal Family could be the High Lord, and it was their gender equality that Nelaemera was born into. She was taught how to be a warrior, how to tell when someone was lying to telling the truth; and right now she was frightening the Lannister Woman out of her nightsilks.

But Harlan knew that Nelaemera was so much more than this. He had seen her be kind and caring, but he worried that light might be swallowed up here. The Westerosi Court seemed to be one of backstabbing, and Harlan was going to do whatever it took to keep Nelaemera safe.

When Cersei Lannister stormed off in a huff, the tension slowly left Harlan’s body, and he turned to his Princess.

“My Lady, permission to speak?” he asked.

“Of course, you can,” Nelaemera said. “Speak freely.”

Harlan took a deep breath. “I do not believe that it is wise, My Lady, for you to enrage the Lannister Woman. She is queen here…”  
“Of an infant kingdom,” Nelaemera replied. “Harlan, my sweet guard, the lion may rule the land; but it is the dragon that rules the skies, and thus the world.”  
Harlan’s lips curved into a rueful smirk. Nelaemera was a bold princess. She wasn’t raised to rule, but rather to fight. That being said, she was a good judge of character, and if she believed that the Lannister Woman needed to learn her place; then who was Harlan to judge?

“Do you plan to go to the lunch meal with her and her ladies?” Harlan asked.

Nelaemera shrugged. “Perhaps, and then perhaps not. I doubt that my sister would want me to associate myself with people like… her.”

Ralha cleared her throat. “Mera…”

Nelaemera rolled her eyes. “Alright, Alright. I’ll cool down my distaste for her. I’ll even go to her stupid little meal she invited me too.”

“Good,” Ralha said, nodding. “Perhaps though, before you continue, it’s best that you converse with your family?”

Nelaemera turned to look at the fireplace and nodded. “I agree. Let us begin.”

* * *

 

The flames of the fireplace crackled as Nelaemera knelt before it. What she was about to do was going to take a lot of energy, and she needed to focus, so her guards closed off her rooms for all visitors.

Taking a deep breath, Nelaemera began to chant in High Valyrian, remembering the words that the Fyremage taught her so many years ago.

“ _Nyke brōzagon bē_ se perzyssy naejot _lend_ nyke _pōja power_ ,” she murmured. “ _Istin ȳdragon_ naejot _ñuha lento…_ ”

The flames shifted from their normal golden-red to burning blood red. Nelaemera picked the letter she had written along with a dagger. Pricking her finger, she let two drops of blood drip onto the letter before Nelaemera tossed it into the flames. The paper vanished within moments, and Nelaemera observed her finger. After a couple of heartbeats, her finger began to burn, the wound cauterizing itself which told Nelaemera that the Fyremage’s had received her letter.

When Old Valyria was destroyed, everyone thought that its secrets in magic and technology would be lost forever. That might have been the case, if Nelaemera’s ancestor, Manaelyra Naelgyreon, had not swooped in and rescued everything. The most powerful that the Valyrian had within their grasp was fyre magic, their crucial weapon used to domesticate dragons. It was Manaelyra’s daughter Vaelyra, who made the Fyremage’s, the primary priests used to direct the religious orders within New Valyria.

Nelaemera discovered that she could use fyre magic when she tripped and fell into one of the many fireplaces of Dragonheart Palace. Now, being fire resistant was nothing new to her, all of the members of her family who had the Blood of the Dragon possessed this trait. But, when Nelaemera once actually ‘grabbed’ the fire of a candle and tossed it her sister; then her family knew that she needed to be seen by the Fyremage’s. It was hard work, but eventually, Nelaemera gained control of her ability, although she was far from being a master.

“We’ll let them discuss among themselves, and when I feel the pain within my finger again, I know a new letter will be waiting for us,” Nelaemera said.

Nelaemera gazed outside of the window of her room and tapped her finger against the cold stone. “I’m going to go for a walk.”

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Ralha said.

“I won’t be alone, Harlan, you come with me, and of course Alyhna,” Nelaemera said, her loyal Hound rising to her feet.

* * *

 

There was one thing in the whole castle that Nelaemera wanted to see, and that was the Iron Throne. She had heard the legends that it was formed by dragon fire and wanted to see and touch it for herself.

Entering the Great Hall, Nelaemera was surprised to find that two people were already there: Sansa Stark, and her… what were those women called again? Septa’s, yes. Her Septa.

Sansa had wanted to see the Iron Throne herself, but for a different reason that Nelaemera. The Stark Girl was still in a sour mood over the loss of her beloved direwolf, murdered by Joffrey. Joffrey might not have wielded the blade that killed Lady, but his words were just as sharp. Septa Mordane had taken her on a tour of the Great Hall, showing her the iron throne in which Sansa’s son was expected to sit upon when he came of age.

“And what if I do not give him a son?” Sansa asked, her voice monotone.

“Then the throne would pass to Prince Joffrey’s brother, Tommon,” Septa Mordane had replied.

“And everyone would hate me,” Sansa murmured. “All because I couldn’t have a son.”

“Why would people blame you for something that is not your fault?” Nelaemera asked, entering the Great Hall.

Sansa couldn’t stop the strange flutter of her heart when she heard Nelaemera’s voice. There was something about this princess that made Sansa feel… strange. The Stark Girl didn’t know how to put it to words, but being around Nelaemera made her feel… odd. There was a twinge inside Sansa, a twinge that would then spread throughout her body in a bubbling warmth.

“Your Grace,” Septa Mordane said, quickly dropping into a low curtsy.

Sansa quickly followed. “Your Grace.”

Nelaemera waved such formalities away. “Such titles bore me and are only used for my Father or my sister. I see no use for them.” She inclined her head. “What brings you both to the Great Hall.”

“I was showing Lady Sansa the Iron Throne,” Septa Mordane replied. “The great seat and symbol of Westeros.”

Nelaemera looked at the Iron Throne and clicked her tongue as she shook her head. “That is a chair. It used to be the great seat and symbol of Westeros when Aegon and his descendants sat upon it. Now, it’s just a chair for a usurper.”

“My Lady!” Septa Mordane gasped. “My Lady please, you must hold your tongue! Do you wish to have your head parted from its shoulders?!”

Nelaemera chuckled, running her hands over the chair. “My dear, dear, Septa. I am the one person within this whole castle in which nothing can happen too. Westeros needs me, it needs the support of the New Valyrian Empire. If anything happened to me, well… the Dragonknights haven’t seen action in a while.”

The blood drained from Sansa’s face. “You… You have dragons…?”

Nelaemera turned back to the Iron Throne, her fingers gently caressing the blades upon the back. “What were you saying, Sansa? You were afraid that the realm would hate you if you failed in baring a son? Why would they hate you for something that is not your fault?”

Sansa turned red. “Erm… that’s what is known. If I fail to have a son, then it is my fault.”

“No, it’s actually the man’s fault. It’s his seed that didn’t plant correctly.”

“MY LADY?!” Septa Mordane wailed, her face turning red. “That is not something in which Lady’s talk about!”

“I heard that the Westerosi were prudes didn’t know it was to this extent,” Nelaemera sighed. “Listen, my dear Septa, might I have the room alone with Sansa?”

Septa Mordane looked to Sansa with worry in her eyes. She feared that this foreign princess would corrupt her ward, but she also knew she couldn’t refuse an order from one of royal blood. Taking a deep breath, she bowed and backed out of the room.

Now that they were alone, Nelaemera smirked wickedly as Sansa and walked around the Iron Throne, sitting right upon the padded seat. Sansa gasped and covered her hands with her mouth.

“Your Grace! Only the King can sit upon the iron throne!”

“Or a usurper, depends on the side that won a battle,” Nelaemera chuckled. “And please, call me Mera. Say it: Mera.”

Sansa looked around, before smiling shyly. “Mera…”

“There you go!” Nelaemera giggled. “From now on, I am Mera to you, alright?” her face then grew serious. “Tell me, Sansa, are you happy here?”

Sansa’s face lost its joy. “I… er…. Y-Yes… I am…”

“I can tell that you are lying. Tell me the truth.”

Sansa nibbled on her bottom lip. “It… It is difficult here, I am still learning. I miss Lady…”

“Who is Lady?”

“She was my direwolf, but she… she died…”

Nelaemera whistled through her teeth, her loyal New Valyrian Hound padding forward and laid at the feet of Sansa. Alyhna was so massive that even laying down she reached Sansa’s waist.

Sansa looked to Nelaemera, who nodded her permission, before reaching out to touch the Hound. Alyhna’s fur was a soft as lambswool, yet quite thick. Before Sansa knew it, she had buried her face in Alyhna’s fur, inhaling the scent of her wash. Memories of Lady came flooding back, tears sliding down her cheeks as she mourned the loss of her most beloved friend.

Alyhna maneuvered herself so that she was under Sansa, the Stark Girl not knowing what was going on until she was lifted upon Alyhna’s back. Sansa let out a shriek and gripped Alyhna’s coat, but the Hound walked around slowly, going at a steady pace. Sansa opened one of her eyes timidly, the gait smoother than a horse’s, although Sansa rarely rode one of those. Her mother claimed it wasn’t lady-like.

“Is this what you do? Ride upon the back of this wonderful beast?” Sansa gasped as Alyhna increased her speed.

“The dragon egg placed in my cradle didn’t hatch, so I was given a Regal New Valyrian Hound pup,” Nelaemera replied, watching them. “They can live to be over 60-years-old. Older than most humans. I’ve trained her to do so much, but yes, riding is my favorite thing to do.”

Alyhna came to a stop before the Iron Throne, and Sansa slid down carefully.

“The King is putting together a tournament to celebrate my Father becoming the Hand of the King. Would you… like to come as my special guest?”

Nelaemera didn’t even have to think on it and smiled. “Of course, I would come. I am honored.”

The moment Nelaemera’s violet eyes met Sansa’s blue, the Stark Girl’s face turned bright red. That bubbling warmth came back, and she looked down nervously at her shoes before looking back up.

“That… That’s wonderful! Thank you!”

With a quick curtsy, Sansa hurried off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this new chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. Please don't hesitate to comment or like this chapter, although I would prefer your feedback as love to know what you think of the piece.  
> Thanks!


	8. Part I — Chapter VIII

Jamie watched as the soft moonlight reflected off Cersei’s back. It made her skin seemingly glow, and Jamie reached to pull her back to him in the bed, but his lover moved out of his grasp.

“Still angry with me not being able to come here for almost three days?” Jamie asked.

  
“Partly. Can’t believe you let that bitch take you down like that.” Cersei replied. “Some knight you are.”

Jamie rolled onto his back with a heavy sigh. “I told you, she didn’t take me down, I let her win.”

“And then she paralyzed you, shaming both you and our House. You let that…. that sheep, touch a Lannister. She needs to learn her place.” Cersei snapped.

“You don’t think I know that?” Jamie growled. “But she’s untouchable!”

Cersei looked at him over her shoulder, her green eyes meeting his. “No one is untouchable. She needs to be taught a lesson; do you have any disposable men?”

Jamie frowned at her words. None of the men under his commander were disposable, at least not to him. He was a man of honor or at least tried to be. Whatever Cersei had in mind wasn’t right, nor honorable, but Jamie doubted that she cared.

“Is revenge against the Valyrian Bitch worth losing loyal men to you and protecting us?” Jamie asked, trying to change Cersei’s mind. “Can’t we poison her or something?”

“Of course not, everyone would know I did it,” Cersei bristled.

Jamie sat up, wrapping his arms around her. “Then do this: there is nothing better in teaching people respect than humiliating them. You are the Queen of Westeros; she’s nobody, she’s nothing compared to you. At the tournament tomorrow, you show her that no one insults you, that no one messes with the Lannister’s.”

Cersei inclined her head, her eyes closing as she felt his hands caressing and roaming her body. “Alright. I’ll do it. Have you heard from Father?”

“He is busy with The Rock, like always,” Jamie said. “His letters are formal, as always. Nothing of importance. But enough about him, come back to bed…”

* * *

 

The morning of the Hand’s Tournament had the Red Keep abuzz with life. Nobles from all over the realm had flooded King’s Landing, bringing with them their servants and households. Only the Nobles from the Great House’s were invited to stay in the Red Keep, although only House Stark, House Arryn, House Lannister, House Baratheon, and House Tyrell resided within. House Martel and House Tully, however, didn’t come, although their Lords gave reasonable excuses.

Eddard found no pleasure in this tournament, as his mind was to the North, where the rest of his family resided. Mere weeks ago his wife had arrived in secret, telling him that his son had awoken from a coma, but suspected that the Lannister’s were the cause of it. Catelyn had explored the tower in which Bran had fallen from and found a long golden hair, a hair that she suspected matched the queen.

But this was where Eddard was confused, what had Bran seen or heard that had made the Lannister Woman risk a war over? It had to be a secret of such magnitude that it was worth a possible war, and it was secret that Eddard planned to uncover. But he had gotten sidetracked by another investigation he was working on, trying to reveal the cause of his predecessor’s untimely death.

Jon Arryn was his mentor, a father figure to Eddard, and had served faithfully as Hand of the King. When word reached Eddard of his death, he knew that he didn’t die naturally, as Jon was a strong and healthy man; although he was getting on his ears. Someone wanted Jon dead, and Eddard needed to uncover why.

This tournament wasn’t something that Eddard wanted, and he planned on skilling the first day anyway. But that would leave his daughters exposed, and he didn’t trust the Lannister Woman around Sansa. He needed someone that he could trust to watch them, excluding their Septa and his men. He needed someone who could help him without an oath of loyalty or wanting something back. He needed someone who had already gotten under the skin of the Lannister’s and thus kept them at bay, and he knew exactly who to ask.

Within moments Eddard found himself in front of the Valyrian Princess’s door, the eyes of her guards snapping on him from under their helmets. Eddard had heard what the Princess had done to Jamie Lannister and believed that if her guards were even half as skilled as she was, then his daughters would be safe. She was the only person in all of Westeros who had nothing to fear because if rumor spoke true, there was an army of high skilled dragon riders at her back.

“I would like to speak with the Princess,” Eddard said to one of the guards.

“Our Lady is bathing and asked not to be disturbed,” one of the Guards barked.

“Can you at least say that Lord Eddard Stark, wishes to ask her something?” Eddard asked.

It felt strange to beg for an audience with a mere child, with a girl none the less, but that was no ordinary girl behind those doors. Eddard knew that.

The Guards looked at themselves, talking in their language before one disappeared inside the room. Eddard could hear light talking before the door opened and a veiled girl stood before him.

She can’t be much older than Sansa, Eddard thought to himself. Does the Princess keep slaves?

He didn’t see a slave collar around her neck, and the robes the girl wore appeared to be made of luxurious fabric.

“Eddard Stark?” the girl asked, in a non-accented Common Tongue.

Eddard nodded. “Aye, that is me. I need to speak with Her Grace if that is possible of course.”

“The Princess is bathing but is finishing up. If you like you can wait for her in the outer part of her chambers.” The Girl said.

Eddard nodded. “Thank you.”

Stepping inside, Eddard was amazed at how the Princess had changed this cold, hard room, into one of comfort. The riches here were more magnificent than anything Eddard had seen in his whole life, greater than he believed even the Lannister’s possessed. That he knew, wouldn’t make them happy.

The massive wolf-hound creature was laying next to the crackling fire, a veiled girl at its side. Looking at the beast reminded Eddard of the sigil of his house, and he was confused about what a Valyrian was doing with it. Less than a week ago Eddard thought there was only one Valyria House living in the world, although it’s two members were currently on the run. Now it was known that an older, grander House was out there, and Eddard needed them on his side.

“Might I offer you some tea?” an ebony-skinned Veiled Girl asked. “Or something to eat?”

“No, No thank you,” Eddard said, taking the seat she had offered him. “Might I ask why you wear veils? Is it because of your religion?”

“Not exactly,” the Veiled Girl said. “It more so has to do with our duty.”

“What are you, exactly?” Eddard asked.

“Warriormaids,” Nelaemera replied, entering the room. “Girls sworn to defend the female members of House Naelgyreon with their lives.”

The veiled girls, servants, and guards all within the room bowed as she entered, staying that way until the Princess sat down in a grand chair.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing before. Forgive me Your Grace, but here in Westeros women do not fight.” Eddard said.

“That would explain why all your wars last so long,” Nelaemera replied, stroking Alyhna’s head. “And why you fight over quite stupid things. What can I do for you, Lord Stark?”

Eddard took a deep breath. “Thank you for meeting me, Your Grace, but I have come to ask something of you?”

Nelaemera inclined her head. “What might that be?”

“I do not plan to attend the first day of the tournament,” Eddard replied. “And I needed someone that I trusted to watch after my daughters.”

“Don’t you have men to do this? Or that insufferable woman, Septa Mordane?” Nelaemera asked.

Eddard tried to not chuckle at the mention of their Septa. “Yes, I do have people to watch them. But… may I be blunt, Your Grace?”

“If you stop calling me that,” Nelaemera replied. “Your Grace is normally used by my Father and sister. But yes, be blunt.”

“I do not trust the Lannister’s. The only reason that Sansa is promised to Prince Joffrey is because of my friendship with the King. I… I trust you, My Lady, I know that you would be kind to my daughters and, if need be, protect them.”

Nelaemera continued to stroke Alyhna’s head as she thought over her next words. “The other day I met with Sansa in the Great Hall, and she invited me to this event. I gave my word that I would come, and I never break my word.”

Eddard’s face lit up. “Thank you, My Lady. Thank you so much! You have my undying gratitude.”

Nelaemera’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Let us hope, that it doesn’t come to that.”  
✵✵✵  
Cersei Lannister looked as the epidemy of queenly grace and regal power, as she sat upon her grand chair in the royal box. Robert had his drinking horn filled with wine, his other hand grasping the bottom of the serving wench. Usually, this would annoy Cersei, not because he was unfaithful, but because he was doing it in public. But today, Cersei pushed all thoughts of Robert from her mind.

After leaving Jamie’s bed, Cersei had ordered her Ladies awake to prepare her for the tournament today. She had bathed in icy water to make her skin pale, then put pinched her cheeks to bring out the pink color. Her hair was brushed until it gleamed gold, and gone up in her signature crowned style. Today, no one was going to outshine her, not that Valyrian Bitch who believed herself superior. No, today she was going to learn her place. The invitation for Nelaemera to come had been sent last night, and Cersei knew that the Girl’s breeding made her unable to refuse.

“Who are you looking for?” Arya asked her sister.

Sansa looked down, her face turning pink. “What? What do you mean? I’m not looking for anyone.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Yes, you are. Ever since we arrived here, you’ve been looking for someone.”

Sansa could feel her ears burning as she thought over her next words. She was looking for Nelaemera, whom Sansa had personally invited, but Sansa wondered if she should tell her the truth or maybe a lie.

“I… I’m looking for Princess Nelaemera,” Sansa said slowly.

Arya arched an eyebrow. “That’s all? Why didn’t you say so? I thought you were looking for Joffrey.”

Sansa exhaled the breath she didn’t even know she was holding in. “I… The Prince and I… aren’t talking right now. Besides, I find the Princess a kind partner to be with and talk too.”

“I’m so happy that you think of me that way,” Nelaemera said, appearing behind the girls.

Sansa’s heart flipped the moment she heard Nelaemera’s voice. Leaping to her feet, Sansa rushed to embrace her but stopped herself just before she could touch Nelaemera.

“Y-Y-Your Grace,” Sansa stammered. “I… Forgive me…”

Nelaemera chuckled. “Why should I forgive you for doing nothing wrong? It is wonderful to see you again, Sansa.”

Sansa smiled. “It is wonderful to see you as well, Your Grace.”

Nelaemera made a face. “What did I say about calling me that?” she leaned in. “I told you,” she whispered. “Call me Mera.”

Sansa couldn’t stop the giggle that came from her lips. “It is wonderful to see you again, Mera.”

“There you go,” Nelaemera said, turning now to face Arya. “Hello again to you as well.”

Arya’s grey eyes slid from the Valyrian Princess to her sister, and then back to Nelaemera. “It’s nice to see you as well. What are you doing here?”

“Sansa invited me, and I always keep my promises,” Nelaemera replied. She looked to Septa Mordane. “I can sit here with the Stark Ladies if you would like. They will be perfectly safe with my guards and me.”

Septa Mordane didn’t protest as she stood up, and instead smiled, bowing to Nelaemera. “Of course, Your Grace. I will watch the joust over there.”

Sansa tried not to turn red as Nelaemera sat next to her, or jump as Nelaemera’s leg brushed hers. The red gown that Nelaemera was wearing was brighter than the red Lannister gowns the Queen frequently wore. Thinking of the Queen, Sansa glanced to where Cersei sat in the Royal Box. She was dressed regally, with Prince Joffrey, Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella at her sides.

Joffrey turned in their direction, and Sansa gave him a shy, nervous smile. The look Joffrey gave Sansa would turn anyone’s blood to ice water, before he turned back to look at the joust. Sansa’s heart dropped to her stomach, her hands fiddling with the edge of her sleeves. Joffrey was still angry with her; it seemed something that Sansa didn’t understand. After all, she had lied to make him happy, but what did it get her? Lady was murdered in cold blood.

A tender elbow on her arm caught her attention, Sansa turning to see Nelaemera looking at her.

“Eyes on the Prince, I see?” Nelaemera asked, arching an eyebrow.

Her tone wasn’t of someone who was teasing, could it be… jealousy perhaps? Sansa wondered.

“He’s… he’s supposed to be my betrothed,” Sansa whispered.

“But it’s not official yet,” Arya blurted out. “Father hasn’t agreed to it yet.”

“But it will happen,” Sansa quickly retorted. “And one day I will be Queen of Westeros.”

“That’s quite the title,” Nelaemera remarked. “Is that what you want?”

Sansa opened her mouth but closed it just as quickly. Was being Queen of Westeros what she wanted? Her Mother said that it was fated for her but… did Sansa wish to be queen? Did she want to be Joffrey’s Queen?

Sansa looked to Nelaemera, curious about something. “You are a Princess… who rules after your father?”

“My older sister, Alaenna,” Nelaemera replied. “My father is old, ill. Before I left she was taking leading the Empire in a certain situation, although I have been waiting to hear back from some of their letters.”

“I could imagine that it takes some time for letters to come here,” Sansa said. “Raven’s can’t fly that fast.”

“Oh, we don’t use ravens in New Valyria,” Nelaemera said. “We use falcons. Specially bred falcons, to be exact. But for important letters we normally use dragons. But seeing as there aren’t any dragons here…”

“You’ve seen them?” Sansa asked. “Up close?”

“Of course,” Nelaemera said. “I remember growing up; my sister would take me on flights on the back of her dragon Manaemala. But since taking over for our Father, she doesn’t fly much. Instead, her daughter rides her dragon; I believe she’s only a year or two younger than I am.”

“Warrior Queens,” Arya gasped, her eyes wide. “Like Visenya and Rhaenys Targaryen…”

“All the women in my family are born and trained warriors,” Nelaemera explained. “It goes back almost a thousand years, to a woman named Sana Xhala. She was a Summer Islander, you see, who married a Valyrian Dragonlord. Their grandson, Baelarys, was the one who founded House Naelgyreon and conquered the lands and islands what would become the New Valyrian Empire.”

Sansa listened to every word with rapt attention, unable to pull herself away. Nelaemera came from a strong and powerful bloodline, a bloodline of warriors and wealth. What did Sansa have? The bloodline of a cold wasteland.

“You must think so little of us here,” Sansa said softly.

Nelaemera inclined her head. “Not at all. Although I will admit that there are some that arouse my ire. Other people… bring out another type of emotion.”

Sansa looked into her violet eyes only to quickly lower them, her cheeks burning red.

* * *

 

Nelaemera watched the first joust with boredom, although she teased and whispered jokes to Sansa; both of which made the Northern Girl laugh. There was calming ease she felt with Sansa, along with a stomach flip whenever Sansa touched her or looked her way. Nelaemera also had a fierce protectiveness over Sansa and Arya, although she sensed that Sansa was the one who needed it most.

“Might I join you, Ladies?” a voice suddenly asked.

Nelaemera turned to see a slender man with dark hair and a weasel-like face. He was looking at all three girls at the same time, but his gaze was mainly focused on Sansa.

“Might I ask who you are?” Nelaemera asked.

The Man’s blue eyes turned to her, narrowing slightly. “Petyr Baelish, at your service Your Grace,” he said. “Although I am affectionately called Littlefinger because I was born in a region called the Fingers.”

“Interesting name,” Nelaemera said.

“I’m an interesting man, at least to some people,” Petyr replied. “Now, might I join you?”

Nelaemera knew that it would be considered rude if she refused him, so she nodded. But there was something about this man that she didn’t like. He looked too much like a weasel, a rat, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to spread discord to get ahead in this world.

She was going to have to keep a close eye on him.

Together, they watched as Ser Gregor Clegane, the elder brother of Sandor Clegane, the Hound, takes the field. His first joust is with Ser Hugh, a seemingly proud man who waved his hands in a grand display. The two horses charged each other, the arena holding its breath as their lances and shields met.

Nelaemera watched as Ser Gregor, at the last moment, turned his lance slightly to the left so that the moment it met Ser Hugh’s shield it splintered into a thousand pieces. A large splinter went flying, burying itself deeply into Ser Hugh’s neck, causing the knight to go crashing to the ground. Sansa and several of the other ladies all screamed, Nelaemera leaping to her feet as men rushed the field. Ser Hugh coughed, spraying what little blood he possessed as he drowned in the parts that hilled his helmet.

Ser Gregor circled his stallion around, his glittering black eyes watching the scene before, just briefly, his eyes looked away. Nelaemera followed his gaze, where eyes watching as Queen Cersei gave Ser Gregor the tiniest of nods and smiles before the mountain of a man rode off.

* * *

 

“That was the most horrible thing that I’ve ever seen,” Sansa said, as she and Nelaemera walked back into the Red Keep. “I’ve never seen so much blood.”

“Blood is a part of life, Sansa,” Nelaemera replied. “It gives and it can take. It’s like fire; it’s alive.”

“The Targaryen words were Fire and Blood,” Sansa said. “Ours is Winter is Coming.”

“Those are funny words,” Nelaemera giggled. “Ours are Passion and Power, we live by our passions, and through our passions, we gain power. At least that was what my Father told me, but I have yet to find my meaning in those words.”

“It must be so amazing, being a Princess,” Sansa said. “I’m just a Lady.”

“It has its benefits,” Nelaemera said, shrugging. “Although there are times I wish I were a normal girl. I know that one day I’m going to marry a nobleman or someone of status; but my Father has promised me that whoever I marry, it will be my choice. My sister already has two children; there is no need for me to sacrifice my love for political means.”

“That sounds so romantic…” Sansa said. “Like the songs and stories the Singers tell. That is all I want, to be a beautiful Queen, to have the love of the King.”

Nelaemera tossed her head, scoffing. “You want the love of the King? That king will be Joffrey. I don’t know what you see in him Sansa; he looks so… frail looking. If I had to choose a boy, close to my tastes, I would choose Harlan.”

Sansa’s mind went back to the dark-golden haired guard that was Nelaemera’s shadow. He was always at Nelaemera’s side, his hand upon his sword to defend his princess. “Would your father let you marry such a man of low standing?”

Nelaemera shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not, I don’t know until I ask.” She took Sansa’s hand. “Enough about boys and marriage. We both are young, fourteen years of age, we have our whole lives ahead of us. Come on; let's go have some fun!”

“What type of fun is there to be had here?” Sansa asked.

Nelaemera tapped her chin and then smiled, pulling up her gown just enough, she began to unbuckle her boots before putting them aside. “Take off your shoes.”

Sansa tilted her head, confused at what Nelaemera was doing, but undid her slippers. They were well made, modeled after Queen Cersei’s style, which Sansa put to the side as Nelaemera had done.

“Now what?” Sansa asked.

Nelaemera grinned. “Now you catch me.”

Without another word she took off running as fast as she could, their collective shrieks of laughter filling the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this new chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. Please don't hesitate to comment or like this chapter, although I would prefer your feedback as love to know what you think of the piece.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> —Rae


	9. Part I — Chapter IX

Arya Stark ran through the hallways of the Red Keep, chasing cats as instructed by her ‘Dancing Teacher.’ Water Dancing was both hard and brutal work, but Arya felt satisfaction in knowing she was learning one of the most ancient forms of combat in the world.

The black cat that Arya was chasing suddenly changed direction and began running in the course of the dungeons. Arya followed it without question, but as she found herself lost in the tunnels, she stopped. Arya had never been down here before, and as she walked among the darkened halls, a large white object made her freeze.

It was a dragon skull.

The skull was twice as tall as Arya herself, and she couldn’t even see the top of it. These were the skulls of the mighty beasts of House Targaryen, of the House that conquered Westeros… Now they sat in the dungeons, forgotten and rotting.

Arya reached out with a trembling hand to the largest one, her fingertips just barely touching it when she heard footsteps in front of her. Gasping in fright, Arya ran to the skull, squeezing herself into the back of it and holding her breath.

“…He found the one bastard already,” the First Voice said, masculine Arya realized. “He has the Book already, the rest will come.”

“And when he knows the truth, what will he do?” the Second Voice said, also masculine.

“The gods alone know,” the First Voice said, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing. “The Fools tried to kill his son, and what’s worse is that they botched it. The Wolf and the Lion will be at each other's throats, we will be at war soon my Friend.”

“What good is War now?” the Second Voice asked, irritated. “We aren’t ready. If One Hand can die, why not a second?”

“This Hand is not the Other,” the First Voice replied. “I told you that.”

“Then we must think of something!” the Second Voice argued. “Khal Drogo will not move until his son is born. You know these savages are, the delay is all they know…”

The two men’s voices grew distant as they traveled down the halls, and only when they were just a whisper in the wind did Arya release the breath she was holding. She didn’t know who the voices belonged too, but one of them sounded so familiar…

Summoning her courage, Arya peeked around the side of the skull, seeing no one. Exhaling deeply, she got ready to wiggle out of the skull when suddenly a hand shot out and grabbed her.

Arya screamed as a soft hand was pressed against her lips, and she found herself staring into a pair of silver eyes. The girl staring at her couldn’t be much older than Sansa, yet she wore light armor and had small daggers in pouches on her sides, on the sides of her boots, and strange star-shaped objects on her waist.

Even though the girl was armed like a knight, she was unearthly beautiful, and Arya hated beautiful, weak girls; she thought them silly. This girls’ skin was the color of fresh milk, eyes of beaten silver and hair like a polished copper kettle. As Arya looked into her eyes, she couldn’t help but feel as she had met her before.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the Girl whispered. “I promise.”

Slowly, she removed her hands and Arya looked down at the Girl’s weapons before back into her eyes.

“What… What are you doing here…?” Arya stammered.

“I could ask you the same thing,” the Girl replied, tilting her head to the side.

“I… I was chasing cats. Please don’t kill me… my Father will pay you handsomely for my safe return.”

The Girl burst out laughing. “What do I need with Westerosi money? It’s worthless to me and where I come from.”

Arya gulped. “Did… Did you hear… what they were talking about?”

“I did. It’s something I know my Lady would be very interested in hearing. And you’re coming with me.”

* * *

 

Arya didn’t protest as the Girl lead her from the dungeons and into the upper part of the Red Keep. They stopped however in a small room, the girl slipping inside briefly before returning covered in a long dress and veil that covered all but her eyes. It was at that moment Arya realized who this girl was.

“You work for the Valyrian Princess,” Arya gasped.

The Girl nodded behind her veils. “Yes, that is true. My name is Lerylla, and I serve Princess Nelaemera Naelgyreon, and that is who we are going to see. She would want to hear what we just heard.”

A weight lifted off Arya’s chest as she realized that it was Nelaemera she was being taken too. If it were queen Cersei that Arya was being brought before then, the Stark Girl would be terrified out of her mind. But Arya liked Nelaemera, so she walked in step with Lerylla to Nelaemera’s chambers.

The Guards snapped at attention when they saw the Warriormaid, although under their helmet they arched their eyebrows at the Stark Girl.

“The girl is with me,” Lerylla said. “Is the Princess awake?”

The Guards nodded, the two of them stepping aside to let Lerylla inside the chambers. Arya glanced inside the room, her face lighting up in delight with what she saw. Nelaemera sat on the floor with her massive Hound, rubbing its belly and burying her face in its fur.

“My Lady,” Lerylla said.

Nelaemera looked up, her violet eyes sliding from her Warriormaid to Arya. “Yes?”

“I was taking a walk and found Lady Arya. She has something important to tell you.”

Nelaemera looked to Arya. “Oh really? And what is that?”

“T-They said that they would kill my Father,” Arya said.

Nelaemera arched an eyebrow. “What? Who did?”

“I didn’t see, but I think one was fat.”

“One was fat?”

“They said… they said my Father had found a Bastard, and the Wolves were fighting the Lions, and something about savages.”

“And where did you hear this?”

“In the dungeons,” Arya replied. “Near the dragon skulls.”

Nelaemera looked to Lerylla, an unspoken message passing between Princess and Warriormaid. She then turned to Arya. “I believe your father is worried sick about you. I will take you to him.”

“But… But… But…” Arya stammered.

“No buts,” Nelaemera said. “Come, I will take you to him now.”

Taking Arya by the hand, the two Lady’s walked to the Hand’s Tower, where the Starks receded. The moment Eddard saw his youngest daughter he grabbed her, pulling her to him a tight hug and holding her close.

“Do you know how worried I’ve been?” Eddard asked. “I’ve had half my men out searching for you!”

“But Father…” Arya began to say, only to be cut off by Nelaemera.

“My apologies Lord Stark, but Arya has been with one of my maids. Both lost track of time, and for this I every sorry,” Nelaemera said.

Eddard looked to Nelaemera. “Is that so? Then please, forgive me for speaking so brashly. I did not know.”

“It’s alright Father,” Arya said. “But… I have to tell you something.”

Arya repeated everything she had heard in the dungeons to her Father, but unlike Nelaemera who was interested in what she had to say; Eddard brushed it off as a childish fantasy. However, Eddard’s ears did prick up when he heard his daughter mention about ‘The Lions and the Wolves’, and ‘The Book and the Bastard.’

Before Eddard could question his daughter further, there was a knock on his door, and Jory stepped inside followed by a man Eddard knew from Winterfell. It was his brother’s friend Yoren, who nodded his head in respect before speaking.

“My Lord I am not here to report good news,” Yoren said. “But am here to recruit men for the Wall. See if there are any scum left the dungeons you would like me to have.”

Nelaemera inclined her head, listening but saying nothing. She had read about this Wall in the books she had on the boat ride to Westeros, and it was supposed to be a wonder of the world. Built by a man named Bran the Builder, it was in the North, and was watched over by men called the Night’s Watch. A funny name if Nelaemera ever knew one.

“I’ll find recruits for you,” Eddard promised.

“Thank you, my Lord, but that’s not only why I’m here,” Yoren said. “I rode so hard I nearly killed my horse, but by tomorrow morning the whole city will know…”

“Know what?” Eddard asked.

Yoren glanced to Arya, and then to Nelaemera who he finally noticed, sitting in the corner. “It is something not best said… before Lady’s.”

“She’s a Lady,” Nelaemera replied, pointing to Arya. “I’m a Princess and a friend to Lord Stark. I will go, however, if he wants me too.”

Eddard looked at his Daughter and then the Princess. Nodding to Jory, his friend took Arya by the shoulder and lead her out, before turning to Nelaemera. “Your Grace, if you would like, I could very much like you to stay and here this, if it threatens the wellbeing of my daughters.”

Nelaemera nodded to him and looked to Yoren, waiting to hear what he had to say.

Yoren cleared his throat to prepare himself. “My Lord I regret to tell you that your wife has placed Tyrion Lannister under arrest, and his taking him to her sister to ‘face justice.”

Eddard gripped the back of his desk in shock. “What? Why would she do such a thing?”

“Lady Stark believes that the Lannister is responsible for the second attempt on your son’s life,” Yoren replied.

Eddard looked to Nelaemera, who in turn said nothing. Nelaemera had read about all the Lannister’s, although this Tyrion wasn’t as mentioned as his brother and sister. Nelaemera believed this had to do with Cersei and Jamie being the ‘Golden Twins’ but continued to listen.

Eddard turned back to Yoren. “Thank you, for telling me this. I will look for recruits for the Wall, but until then, please keep this between us.”

Yoren nodded, bowing his head to Nelaemera before leaving. Once he was gone, Eddard turned to Nelaemera. “Your Grace…”

“I already know what you are going to say,” Nelaemera replied. “And my answer is yes.”

Eddard sighed, nodding. “Thank you. “There is a Small Council meeting within the hour. Will you come?”

Nelaemera smirked. “I’ll be more than willing to do so.”

* * *

 

The room that the Small Council met was behind the Iron Throne. The other members of the Small Council—Varys, Littlefinger, Pycelle, the King’s brother Renly, and even King Robert himself—were already there, waiting for them.

When the doors opened, and the men saw Nelaemera standing beside Eddard, their faced became clouded with confusion, and it was Varys who spoke up.

“Lord Stark, not to be rude, but why is the Princess Nelaemera with you?” Varys asked.

“I am here because Lord Stark invited me to be,” Nelaemera replied, putting her hands behind her back and raising her chin. “If anyone has a problem with that…”

“No problem at all, Your Grace,” Littlefinger replied quickly. “We just were… shocked. Normally the matters of the realm are handled by…”

“Men and men alone?” Nelaemera finished for him, her lips curving in a challenging smirk. “Need I remind you that I come from a land where women hold most of the power? And in fact, my sister is going to become the next High Lord of the New Valyrian Empire, after my father?”

“Her Grace speaks the truth,” Eddard spoke up. “I invited her to sit in and learn from our Small Council. After all, she is here by the will of her father to form a relationship with Westeros.”

“Lord Stark speaks the truth,” Nelaemera said. “Now, who will stand for me to have their seat?”

It was Renly who stood up and allowed Nelaemera to have his seat, even pushing her in to make sure she was comfortable.

Eddard turned to Robert. “Your Grace, might I ask why you have decided to join us?”

“The whore is pregnant,” Robert growled. “She must go.”

Nelaemera bit her tongue, as she almost blurted out, ‘that’s not the proper way to talk about your wife’; but something stopped her. The look on Eddard’s face told her that Robert meant another ‘whore.’

“To whom does he speak of, Lord Stark?” Nelaemera asked.

“Daenerys Targaryen,” Eddard murmured, his gaze hard upon his friend. “Your Grace, you speak of murdering a child.”

Nelaemera’s ears pricked up. This was the first time she had heard of the surviving Targaryen children. House Naelgyreon had left the Valyrian Freehold long before the Doom, settling in Lys for a couple of years before moving and conquering the land that was now the New Valyrian Empire. House Targaryen had also left the Valyrian Freehold before the doom, making the last two Dragonlord houses bonded with ‘Dragonblood.’

When Aegon Targaryen conquered Westeros, House Naelgyreon watched from afar waiting to see if the young man had what it took to call himself a Dragonlord. Once the conquest was complete, Nelaemera’s ancestor, Aelyx, offered Aegon both the support of House Naelgyreon as well as his daughters’ hand. Although Aegon politely refused, the two Dragonlord families made a permanent oath of loyalty and support to the other. Besides the King, only the Heir to the Iron Throne was given knowledge of New Valyria; even though most of the East new of their existence. It wasn’t until Robert’s Rebellion did Outsiders learn about Nelaemera and her people.

Nelaemera’s House would have given their support to King Aerys Targaryen during his time of need, had not the Mad King dared insult them by ordering them to come. No one ordered House Naelgyreon to do anything and thus turned their back on him. Instead, House Naelgyreon pleaded their support to Aerys’ heir, Rhaegar; but when Rhaegar was killed by Robert Baratheon that support turned to his two younger siblings: Viserys and Daenerys.

Although the spies that worked for House Naelgyreon were great—rumors said there were two within every village, town, city, and port in the world—they had been unable to find the youngest Targaryen siblings. Hearing that at least one was still alive snatched Nelaemera’s full attention.

“I warned you this would happen, back in the North,” Robert raged to Eddard. “I warned you, but you didn’t care to hear! Well, hear it now: I want them dead, mother and child both! And that fool Viserys as well! Is that plain enough for you!?”

Nelaemera’s heart skipped a beat. Not only was this Daenerys alive, but she was carrying a child! Her brother was alive as well!

‘No wonder the Usurper won his Rebellion,’ Nelaemera thought angrily. ‘He is not afraid of slaughtering mother and unborn child at the same time!’

“You’ll dishonor yourself forever if you do this,” Eddard replied.

“HONOR?!” Robert roared. “I’ve got seven Kingdoms to rule! One king, seven kingdoms! Do you think it’s honor that’s keepin’ the peace? It’s fear! Fear and blood!”

“Careful my lord,” Nelaemera finally said. “You are dangerous to speaking the Words of the House you claim to hate so much.”

Robert turned his burning eyes in her direction, his mouth open to yell at her as well; but the limited wheel in his mind began to turn. Out of everyone in his whole realm, the Valyrian Princess was the only person who was immune to his verbal abuses. Robert remembered what Tywin told him about the New Valyrian’s, that they were allied with the Targaryen’s for most of their reign in Westeros. The last thing that Robert needed now was them invading his realm. But at the same time, Robert couldn’t afford to look weak.

“We’re no better than a Mad King if we do this!” Eddard yelled, snapping Robert from his thoughts.

“Careful Ned,” Robert barked. “Careful, now.”

“You want to assassinate a girl, all because your Spider heard a rumor?” Eddard asked.

Robert looked to his Small Council. “You’re my Council! Council some sense to this honorable fool!”

Varys sighed, leaning forward. “My lord, I understand your… misgivings, truly I do. It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet we whole presume to rule, must do vile things for the good of the realm. Think on this: should the gods grant Daenerys a son, the realm will bleed.”

“Or daughter…” Nelaemera murmured, smirking.

“I bare this girl no ill will,” the elderly man Pycelle said. “But should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, if not kinder, so that she die now; so that tens of thousands might live?”

“We should have had them both killed years ago,” Renly spoke out.

“I highly doubt seeing you wielding the dagger,” Nelaemera snapped.

Eddard slowly walked to the table, his eyes fastened upon Robert. “I followed you into war, twice. Without doubts, without second thoughts. But I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn’t tremble at the shadow of an unborn child.”

Robert was unmoved and stared into Eddard’s eyes. “She dies.”

“And I will have no part in it,” Eddard said.

“You’re the Kings Hand, Lord Stark,” Robert said. “You’ll do as I command or I’ll find me a hand who will.”

Without missing a beat, Eddard reached down and unclipped the Hand’s pin on his jacket and tossed it onto the table. “And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man.”

Robert jumped to his feet. “Get out! Get out! I’m done with you!”

Eddard bowed. “Yes, Your Grace.” He looked to Nelaemera. “Your Grace, I can escort you to your rooms.”

Nelaemera smiled and stood up, smoothing out her gown and taking Eddard’s extended hand. “Yes, my Lord. I’ll like that.”

* * *

 

Later that evening, Varys glided through the halls of the Red Keep, his head down. As he rounded a corner, two armored hands shot out, grabbing his arm and began to pull him along. Varys knew better than to yell, but he did fight as best as he could. But the hands that held him was too strong as they yanked him up several flights of stairs, before shoving him into a dimly-lit room.

There, the hands shoved him into a chair, before standing behind him. It took Varys’ eyes a moment to adjust to the low candlelight, but from what he could see was that he was in a luxurious chamber. It didn’t look like any of the Queen, King or Royal Children’s chambers; no this wealth and beauty came from somewhere else.

To the right of him was a pair of curtains that parted, and two veiled women stepped out and walked to him. One held a platter of food, the other held a strange looking pot on a tray along with cups. But Varys wasn't interested in the food or the drink.

“What is the meaning of this?” Varys demanded. “I am a member of the King’s Small Council! If you harm me, then the King will have your head on a platter.”

“My dear Varys, you and I both know that can’t happen,” Nelaemera said, appearing from behind the curtains. “I am immune to everything here.”

Varys arched an eyebrow. He had expected that the New Valyrian Princess might try to talk to him, but what he didn’t expect was her kidnapping him.

“Your Grace,” Varys said. “If you wished to speak to me, there was no need for me to be so roughly treated.”

Nelaemera sat down in the elegant chair in front of him. “I had to make sure that you came. You’re known as the Spider, the great Spymaster. I wasn’t sure who you served, or who you reported too. I couldn’t risk it.”

Varys nodded. “I understand. What do you want from me, Your Grace?”

“The Targaryen Children. Where are they?”

Varys sighed. “Your Grace, while I understand that your House was once allied to them…”

“No, Varys I don’t think you understand it at all,” Nelaemera say. “You served under King Aerys, and I know that you are a primary cause of the slaughter of that House.”

Varys’ jaw dropped. “Your Grace… You can’t know or believe that.”

“I know, and I do believe that,” Nelaemera replied. “Do you think that you’re the only one with spies within the Westeros? Within the World? What are your spies called? Your Little Birds, correct? Within New Valyria we have a species of animals called Catowls, they are swift, they are silent, and they are deadly. That is also the name for our spies. Yet, for all their hard work, we have been unable to find the Targaryen children. I want to know: where are they?”

Varys gulped. He was rare for one to be caught unaware and he was flabbergasted at how much this girl seemed to know. “I have to carry out King Robert’s orders. If I don’t, then it will be my head on a spike.”

“I’m not saying you don’t, I’m just saying you tell me where they are so I can alert my spies. Within my culture, I care not for Viserys, he can die if you want. But Daenerys and her unborn are not to be touched.”

Varys glanced at the armed guard behind him. The only way he was going to get out of here was if he agreed with this girl, so he gave her a small nod. “Alright. I will carry out my orders but also give her a chance to escape harm if she so wishes. As for where they are, I do not know wholly. All I know is that they are within the Dothraki Sea.”

Nelaemera nodded. “Thank you. That is just what I needed. Harlan, make sure Varys is returned to his chambers unharmed.”

Harlan nodded and grabbed Varys’ shoulder, leading the Eunuch out of the room.

The moment that he was gone, Nelaemera went to the fire and quickly wrote a message to her father and tossed it into the flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this new chapter, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Please don't hesitate to comment or like this chapter, although I would prefer your feedback as love to know what you think of the book.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> —Rae


	10. Part I — Chapter X

The flames in the fireplace next to Nelaemera’s bed crackled within their hearth. The Valyrian Princess lay under the silken sheets and coverlets in a deep slumber, outside her guards stood at attention. Alyhna was at her side, her ears pricked for any sound of a disturbance.

Sharp pain in Nelaemera’s finger made the princess gasp, sitting up instantly as I looked at her hand. It was bleeding, and as her eyes traveling to the hearth just in time to see a letter be ejected from the flames. Catching it, Nelaemera grabbed the dagger that she kept under her pillow and broke the seal.

  
_My Dearest Sister,_

_Our Father lays at the Door of Death, and I have not left his side except to write this letter. I have always known that in his death I shall become the High Lord of our Empire and I must confess that the thought terrifies me._

_My belly is heavy with my third child, and I fear the stress I am under might harm it._

_But I didn’t send this letter to you to weigh you down with my worries. I have taken the information you have given us about the surviving Targaryen children to Father, who had given his approval to find them. Pentos is a large city-state, but it shouldn’t be hard for our Catowls to find them._

_Is it strange, that I want to bring the Sister of the Capital, and leave the fool of a Brother to the Sea of Grass? As an expecting mother myself, I feel as if I can teach this Daenerys how to be a true Valyrian. Here, she and her child can grow, can learn, until the time comes for them to claim their birthrights._

_Our House will never forget our greatest shame in refusing our Dragonblood Brothers aid, during their slaughter. We might restore our honor, both personal and that of our House._

_Stay strong, my sister, even though I know that you’re perfect the way you are. Continue to make the Lannister Woman squirm, and make friends with the Starks. If our spies speak the truth, then they soon will be at each other’s throats, and we will back the side who has been honorable since their founding. I scoff at the thought of helping a House who’s founder only got his position through trickery._

_Your letters about the eldest Stark Daughter intrigue me. Is it possible I sense an infatuation you have with her? Little Sister, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but within Westeros, they view two women sharing intimate embraces as an abomination. But then again I could be wrong, and if I am, please forgive me._

_I must go now, but please know that you make our Father proud_ with _what you are doing. The Fyremage’s sense a storm rising over Westeros, and for that, I bid you be careful. You are the Blood of the Dragon, do not be afraid to bathe those inferior to you in your flames._

Kostagon se _gods eep ao,_

_Alaenna_

Nelaemera’s hand trembled as she read her sister’s letter, her lip quivering. She remembered that her Father always was one of ill health, but her heart felt as if it was being ripped from her chest. Nelaemera had hoped that she’d get at least one more time to see her Father before he passed, but it would take her an eternity to return to the Capital from Westeros. By the time Nelaemera would get there, her Father would be dead.

Tears began to slide down her cheeks, and with a soft cry of anger, she tossed the letter back into the fire. She waved as it blackened and burned, Nelaemera dropping to her knees as her body racked with sobs.

The door opened behind her, Harlan poking his head inside. “Your Grace?”

Nelaemera looked over her shoulder, rubbing her wet cheeks. “Oh,” she sniffed. “H-Hi Harlan.”

“Are you alright, Your Grace?”

“Harlan, you know that you don’t have to call me that.”

“I know it’s… easier for me I guess… people here are so big on titles, I didn’t want to offend anyone. It’s so strange calling the Lannister Woman ‘My Queen’ because she’s not my queen, your mother is.”

“Soon my sister will be High Lord,” Nelaemera whispered, the tears welling in her eyes again. “My father is dying.”

Harlan stiffened. He knew how close Nelaemera was with her father, as the man had spoiled her ruthlessly since she came into this world. Nelaemera was Rhaemion’s favorite, even though she wasn’t his heir; if the High Lord could have given her the world, he would have.

“I’m sorry to hear that… Mera,” Harlan said, slowly entering her chambers. “Truthfully I am. Have I ever told you how jealous I was, growing up in the Palace?”

Nelaemera looked at him. “What do you mean?”

Harlan sat at her side, playing with one of the loose threads on the rug. “I never knew my parents, if you remember. I was brought into the palace as an orphan, and I watched from afar as your parents and sister showered you with all the love and affection I was lacking. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t unhappy training to be a Royal Guard, but when I would listen to your mother sing you lullabies or kiss your forehead… I wanted that.”

Nelaemera listened to him talk. She knew that he was an orphan, most members of the Royal Guards were, as they were recruited in from an orphanage; but she didn’t realize that he envied her.

“Harlan…” she said, gently putting her hand on his. “I didn’t know that you felt like this…”

“I don’t feel that way anymore,” Harlan said, giving her a soft smile. “And you’ve shown me more kindness than most would in your position, and for that, I am truly grateful.”

Nelaemera felt the heat rushing into her cheeks as his words, and she shyly looked away, only to turn back and look at Harlan from under her lashes. “You… You really think so?”

“I know you… Mera,” Harlan said.

The two of them stared intensely into each other’s eyes, unblinking and not looking away. Slowly, they began to lean close, closer and closer, until their lips gently pressed together.

Nelaemera was fourteen years old, and Harlan was fifteen. Back in the Empire, the Princess would be attending balls and festivals to find a probable husband, a betrothal happening when she was sixteen, and marriage when she was nineteen. People within the Empire lived long, with their advanced medical practices and knowledge of the mystical arts. In fact, the oldest High Lord that lived was Daemera Naelgyreon.

Born in 164 ANC—After Naelgyreon Conquest—Daemera died in 300 ANC at the age of 136, having reigning from 200 ANC to 300 ANC. She oversaw what was known as the New Valyrian Gilded Age, as she introduced sweeping reform all over the Empire.

Most women within the Empire had children in their late 20’s is not early 30’s, as there was no rush into it. Females carried on and preserved the family line, not male, a notion that Nelaemera found was not within Westeros. Here, men did everything, and girls of high birth were expected to do nothing but sew and act dainty.

They wouldn’t last five seconds within the Empire.

Harlan’s kiss lasted a moment barely, as the young Guard pulled away quickly fearing rejection. His face was bright red as he looked at his princess, but Nelaemera didn’t slap him or yell at him. Instead, she smiled shyly, all her sorrow at being so far away from home was gone.

* * *

The next couple of weeks were quiet for Nelaemera, although the Valyrian Princess began to see the words of wisdom from her sister’s letter form to life.

After Lord Stark’s wife took Tyrion Lannister, his brother Jamie—having finally healed from being paralyzed by Nelaemera—came to Lord Stark and ask for his release. Ask was a kind word, however, as according to Lerylla, whom Nelaemera had watching the Stark household, said that Ser Jamie burst into a room that Lord Stark was exiting and attacked him. Jamie killed all of Lord Stark’s men who were with him, before severely injuring Lord Stark and demanding his brother’s release.

Although his wounds were treated, cracks began to form between the Lannister/Stark alliance.

Nelaemera knew it was best that she’d appear to be neutral in times like this, but she made sure to try and keep her eye upon the Stark daughters. She gave Arya rides upon Alyhna and walked the gardens with Sansa. Inwardly, Nelaemera felt that Lord Stark found her company comforting to his daughters, as after all, he was the only true person he trusted with his daughters. But there was one person who could turn Sansa’s head for the worst, to make the poor girl blind with girlish fancies; and that was Prince Joffrey.

For a while, the Prince had ignored Sansa for the most part of her stay in the Red Keep. Nelaemera herself hadn’t seen much of the Prince either, but she figured that he was busy doing ‘princely things’; or whatever passed as princely things in Westeros. Normally Nelaemera was at Sansa’s side, trying her best to make the girl more conscience of the world around her; but the silly girl was too caught up in her dreams of marrying her Golden Prince.

One day, when Nelaemera wasn’t with her, Sansa sat with Septa Mordane, the two of them sewing by the window when the Stark Girl heard footsteps coming her way. Sansa raised her head, and her heart almost jumped out of her chest at who she saw entering her chambers.

Prince Joffrey was there, dressed in his regal dark-brown and gold robes, and standing seemingly nervously at her threshold.

Sansa immediately put her sewing aside, slowly rising to her feet as red bloomed in her cheeks.

“My Prince,” Septa Mordane said, dropping into a deep curtsy.

“My Prince,” Sansa said, copying her Septa’s curtsy.

“My Lady,” Joffrey said, bowing respectfully before standing up to daze deeply into her eyes. “I fear that I’ve behaved monstrously in the past few weeks.”

Reaching into his pocket, Joffrey took out a golden necklace stamped with a lions’ face and held it out to her.

“With your permission.”

Sansa looked down at the necklace and smiled, quickly turning around and lifting her hair out of the way. Joffrey’s fingers seemingly caressed her skin as he placed it around her neck, securing the clasp, and watching her reaction.

Sansa tenderly touched her, inhaling with delight as she turned to face her Prince. “It’s beautiful, like the one your mother wears.”

Joffrey nodded, smiling himself. “You’ll be queen someday, it only fits that you should look the part.” He stopped a moment, looking down at his hands and then looking back up at her. “Will you forgive me? For my rudeness?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Sansa whispered.

Joffrey nodded, slowly reaching out he cupped her cheeks and pulled Sansa close. “You’re my Lady,” he said. “One day we’ll be married in the throne room, lords and ladies from all over the Seven Kingdoms will come from the Last Hearth to the North. I swear to you, I’ll never disrespect you again. I’ll never be cruel to you, again. Do you understand me?”

Sansa nodded, her heart beating so loudly she sword he could hear it. “Yes, I do.” She whispered.

“You are my Lady. From this day, until my last day.”

It was as if he was reciting their marriage vows, and Sansa didn’t resist when he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle, although sloppy kiss. Sansa didn’t pull away, as her dream of kissing her Prince finally had come true.

Septa Mordane knew better than to interrupt them, but she inwardly wasn’t so sure about what the Prince was saying. Yet she held her tongue.

When Joffrey left, Sansa gripped her necklace with an excited shriek of delight. The Stark Girl picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she could to Nelaemera’s chambers, the guards stepping aside when they saw her. Nelaemera was in the middle of writing a letter to her sister when the door burst open, and Sansa came running in.

“Mera! Mera, look!” Sansa cried. “Look at what my Beloved Prince gave me!”

Nelaemera looked at the necklace and listened to Sansa tell her in an excited blubbering mess, of what Joffrey had said and did.

“I knew he’d come around,” Sansa said, happy dancing around the room. “Now my Sweet Prince will love me forever, and I can not wait to have his babies…”

Nelaemera arched an eyebrow. “Sansa, my dear friend, listen to me. This doesn’t sound… right. This is the same boy who lied on, glared at, and ignored you for weeks on end.

Then, out of thin air, he decided to make up? Something doesn’t sound right…”

Sansa stopped her dancing. “Joffrey clearly sees the error of his ways and wanted to make up with me. Aren’t you happy with me?”

“Of course I’m happy for you. But… I just don’t trust him.”

“But you trust me, and I trust him. Shouldn’t that be all that matters?”

Nelaemera sighed, the poor girl was clearly and deeply in love, but it was with the wrong guy. She couldn’t tell Sansa to beware of this boy, but it would only fall on deaf ears.

“Yes,” Nelaemera said. “That’s all that matters.”

* * *

Later that evening, Eddard Stark limped into the chambers where he and his daughters shared their nighttime meal. Since being stabbed in the leg by Jamie, the Northern Lord was forced to use a cane, but he tried to not let the pain overtake him. What he was about to say, Eddard knew would start a fight, but he believed that it was for the best for both girls.

Sansa was playing with her new necklace, while Arya rolled her eyes. At that moment they looked like two girls, two girls that Eddard wanted so strongly to protect. It was best that he got this over with.

“I’m sending you both back to Winterfell,” Eddard said.

“What?” Sansa cried, dropping her necklace. “What about Joffrey?”

“Are you dying because of your leg?” Arya asked. “Is that why you’re sending us home?”

“What?” Eddard said, trying his best to not laugh. “No, that’s not it at all.”

“Please Father, please don’t,” Sansa begged.

“You can’t!” Arya said. “I’ve got my lessons with Syrio! I’m finally getting good!”

“This isn’t a punishment,” Eddard said, trying to calm them. “I want you back in Winterfell for your own safety.”

“Can we at least take Syiro back with us?” Arya asked.

Sansa cut her eyes at her younger sister. “Who cares about your stupid dance teacher? I can’t do, Father! I’m supposed to marry Prince Joffrey! I love him, and I’m meant to be his queen and have his babies!”

“Seven hells,” Arya scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“When you’re old enough, I’ll make you a match with someone worthy of you,” Eddard said, trying to appease his eldest daughter. “Someone who’s brave and gentle and strong and…”

“I don’t want someone brave and gentle and strong!” Sansa countered. “I want him! He’ll be the greatest king that ever was! A Golden Lion, and I’ll give him sons with beautiful blonde hair.”

The amused smile that was upon Eddard’s face dropped the moment Sansa said that.

“The lions not his sigil you idiot,” Arya snapped, rolling her eyes. “He’s a stag like his father.”

“No, he’s not,” Sansa said, close to tears now. “He’s nothing like that old drunk king.”

Eddard’s face continued to fall, something that his daughter said, clicking in his mind and he looked to his daughter. “Find your Septa and pack your things.”

Sansa burst into tears she had been fighting to hold back, begging her Father to change his mind. But Eddard was already walking to the door.

Going to his office, Eddard sat in front of the massive book that he had gotten from Jon Arryn, skimming the pages for a what was scraping the back of his mind. When he finally reached the section marked BARATHEON, he began to read aloud to himself.

“Lord Orys Baratheon, black of hair. Axeon Baratheon, black of hair. Lionel Baratheon, black of hair. Steffen Baratheon, black of hair. Robert Baratheon, black of hair. Joffrey Baratheon, golden haired.”

All the pieces of the puzzle began to fit within Eddard’s mind. Everything now made sense. When Eddard had visited the brothels that Robert had frequented all of his bastards had black hair and blue eyes, yet his children by marriage to Cersei Lannister all had blond hair and green eyes… just like the Queen and her brother…

Eddard rose to his feet, horrified and disgusted by this realization. This was wrong… this was wrong… and Eddard’s honor couldn’t let this happen. The Lannister’s were trying to take over the throne. Eddard had fought one war over succession, he wasn’t going to fight another, especially for the Lannister’s.

But the major issue was this: what was Eddard going to do with this information.

He was going to have to confront Cersei, Eddard knew he would have to do that, but he feared her fury. What would she do with his daughters? Eddard had to protect his daughters, especially Sansa who was deeply in love with the Lannister Prince.

Eddard hat to protect them, but he could only do so much, that he knew. But there was one person within the palace who was untouchable by Cersei’s claws.

Picking up a quill and a piece of parchment, Eddard began to write a letter to Princess Nelaemera.

* * *

 

_Your Grace,_

_I do not have a lot of time to write this, but I must confess that I have found the most dishonorable thing happening within the Red Keep. For your safety, I shall not disclose it, but I submit before you a request._

_By the time this letter reaches you, I will have met with the Queen, and I fear her reprisal. In that case, I submit and beg your favor, Your Grace. I beg and ask that you watch over my daughters, especially Sansa._

_I fear what will happen to her when I talk to the Queen, as she is so young and not wise to this cruel world. I gift you with all the resources of House Stark at your disposal to finish this job, as well as my seal. My eldest son, Robert, currently lives at Winterfell, although I fear I shall not return to see him. To prove that you are my ally, I ask that you send one of your servants to Winterfell with my seal. Robert will help you no matter what._

_I must end this letter now, Your Grace; but I beg of you one last time, please, help me._

_Signed,_

_Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this new chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. Please don't hesitate to comment or like this chapter, although I would prefer your feedback as love to know what you think of the piece.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> —Rae


	11. Part I — Chapter XI

Nelaemera paced her chambers with Eddard Stark’s letter in her hands, trying to learn her next move.

It had been delivered in the wee hours of the morning along with a small package by a servant wearing the Stark livery, although Nelaemera didn’t read it until she woke. Nelaemera had to read it twice to fully understand its meaning, and even when she did an unease settled upon her.

‘Whatever could this secret be?’ Nelaemera wondered to herself. ‘What could be so terrible that Lord Stark never put it to paper?’

“Ballonos,” Nelaemera called. “Ballonos, come here.”

A blonde-haired youth the same age as Harlan hurried to her call. Ballonos was Harlan’s best friend, the two lads having trained to become Royal Guards together. Although the two of them couldn’t be more different. While Harlan was quiet, severe and serious about his work; Ballonos was always cracking jokes, flirting with the female servants and never one for formality unless commanded.

“Yes, Mera?” Ballonos said.

“I need you to take a trip for me,” Nelaemera said, sitting down to write a letter to this Robert Stark.

“Where am I delivering it too?”

“Winterfell, the home of the Starks. I fear that Lord Stark’s life might be in danger, and you must tell his eldest son that we will give him support.”

Taking the black and gold wax she always carried with her, Nelaemera pressed the seal of her House into it. Then, she got some grey wax and pushed the seal of House Stark into it. If this Robert Stark were smart, he would understand and accept her help.

Ballonos took the letter and tucked it into his pocket. “I will mount my Hound at once. Before I go, I will converse with the Stark servants on how to get to the castle and how long it will take.”

Nelaemera nodded. “Good. May the gods watch over you.”

Ballonos flashed her his signature cocky smile. “I have never let you down, my Princess.”

Bowing, Ballonos walked to the Hand’s Tower and found only a couple of servants were there. Most of them were helping the Stark Girls pack their belongings, but he did see a couple of soldiers who weren’t doing anything. According to the guards, if Ballonos rode hard by horse, then he would be at Winterfell within six weeks. If Ballonos rode at a reasonable pace, then it would be double that. Ballonos didn’t have twelve weeks, he didn’t have six, he thanked the gods that he had brought his New Valyrian Hound. Fully grown, the massive beasts were bigger than horses and could run faster than a horse. If Ballonos rode hard, but not too hard, then he would be there hopefully within the month.

Returning to his rooms, Ballonos packed his things, and planned to take a Messenger Falcon with him; to keep contact with what was going on in Kings Landing. When Ballonos was checking his saddle and harness for his Hound, Harlan walked over and leaned against the door.

“You weren’t going to say goodbye?” Harlan asked.

“Of course I was,” Ballonos replied. “But Mera told me to leave as soon as I could.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the North. I carry letters from Mera and Lord Stark. But I must go quickly.”

“Let me go with you then.”

Ballonos shook his head. “No, you need to stay here and protect Mera.”

Harlan chuckled softly. “You and I both know that she doesn’t need protecting. He Warriormaids are small army themselves.” He sighed. “But I see what you mean. But be safe, alright? And come back as quickly as you can. Take a Messenger Falcon with you, that way we can stay in touch.”

Ballonos nodded, chuckling softly. “I’m only going to be gone for a month, five weeks at the longest. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

* * *

 

Words should be more carefully spoken.

No more than a week after Ballonos had left for the North, Nelaemera woke to the sound of people yelling, screaming, and the heavy stomping of metal boots. Someone was banging on her chamber door, and she looked to her Sirylea who was sleeping at her side.

“Go wake everyone,” Nelaemera commanded.

Sirylea nodded, picking up her skirts and hurrying to do as ordered. However, it was the banging on the door that woke everyone up from their sleep.

The banging continued on Nelaemera’s door, a deep voice yelling, “Princess Nelaemera, open up! King Joffrey commands your presence in the Throne Room.”

‘King Joffrey?’ Nelaemera thought as her dress was brought to her.

The guards within her chambers all snapped into position, her Warriormaids helping her into her clothes. Had so much happened within the last 24 hours? Nelaemera thought that her spies had been watching everything, but something big had happened, and Nelaemera had to quickly adapt.

She nodded to Harlan who opened the door, as five Lannister soldiers stormed into her chambers. Their dirty books kicked up the rich rugs and blankets on the floor, not caring about knocking over tables as they marched up to her.

“Princess Nelaemera,” one of the soldiers said. “His Grace, King Joffrey, commands you to come to the throne room to pledge loyalty to him.”

“No one commands Naelgyreons to do anything,” Nelaemera replied. “and as for pledging loyalty to that child, I’d rather have my tongue nailed to a table.”

The men’s hands went to their swords, which in turn made Harlan and his men grab their swords in reply.

“Don’t do anything you’re going to regret,” Nelaemera said. “Trust me when I say, that you’ll lose.”

Some of the soldiers looked at each other nervously. Word had spread among their ranks in what this mere girl had done to their Commander, Ser Jamie. However, the man that led them was a grizzled soldier who didn’t believe in the rumors. He thought that Ser Jamie had done the honorable thing by letting her win in their duel, after all, she was just a Lady.

“We are under the command of His Grace, King Joffrey, and Her Grace, Queen Regent Cersei Lannister,” the Soldier said. “To bring you to the Throne room for you to swear your allegiance to His Grace.”

Nelaemera unleashed a rueful laugh. “Swear allegiance to that child? What will I swear allegiance too next, a rotten turnip?”

The Soldier drew his sword, pointing it at Nelaemera’s chest. “We have orders to take you via Force, or by your own will. Although Her Grace did mention, she didn’t care which way.”

“You dare, threaten a Princess of House Naelgyreon?” Harlan growled, drawing his own sword.

The Soldier looked to his men. “Take them all.”

He raised his sword, bringing it down swiftly to strike. Nelaemera brought her hands together, catching the blade between her palms. The metal began to change from silver to red, and Nelaemera’s fury fueled her fyre magic.

These Lannister’s had stormed into her room without invitation. Insulted her by commanding her to come to a beck and call of a lesser House. Threatened the lives of her and her servants.

“I’m going to deliver your heads… to Cersei Lannister,” Nelaemera growled through clenched teeth.

The Soldier looked down at his sword, watching in horror as the red crept closer and closer to his fingers. He howled in pain as the hot metal burned him, his skin boiling as it fused with the metal.

None of the Lannister soldiers who entered Nelaemera’s rooms uninvited left alive. In fact, Nelaemera herself cut off the head of the Soldier who had threatened her life. With any luck, Nelaemera had just robbed Cersei of another army commander.

“What are we going to do?” Harlan asked. “The Lannister Woman is going to be furious with us.”

“Leave that to me,” Nelaemera said. “Lena, get me one of my gowns. Ralha, you and the other Maids put your weapons under your robes, Harlan I want you to oversee the cleaning of my rooms. I don’t want any Lannister blood staining my carpets.”

Harlan nodded. “Yes, My Lady.”

* * *

 

Cersei stood behind her son, a smirk of satisfaction on her lips. Before they were a long line to Westerosi nobles, all bowing and swearing fealty to her son.

‘That fool Eddard lost the Game,’ Cersei thought to herself. ‘I can not wait to have his head brought before…’

The scream of a noblewoman echoed in the Throne Room as five heads rolled to a stop in front of the Iron Throne. The Kingsguard all assembled as quickly as they could in front of Joffrey and Cersei, Cersei looking with horrified eyes to see where they had come from.

The crowds of noblemen and noblewomen all stepped away as Nelaemera strode into the room. Dressed in a dark red gown with gold trim, the long sleeves bared her shoulders as well parts of her neck. Her Warriormaids walked in a circle around her, and although all of them looked dainty and elegant, they actually were heavily armed.

Cersei worked quickly to remove any trace of shock from her face as she raised her chin defiantly. “I hope you have a good excuse for throwing the heads of my Men so callously.”

“I hope you have a good excuse for sending them to drag me here to the Throne Room, with or without my consent,” Nelaemera shot back.

“I highly doubt they would do that. I told them to treat you with the highest of care.”

“I’m sure you did…” Nelaemera looked to Joffrey. “I hear that congratulations are in order, you are King of Westeros.”

Joffrey raised his chin, the same way his mother did. “Yes, that is right. And as King, you must bow to me.”

Nelaemera chuckled ruefully. “I will bow to you when you earn my respect.”

Joffrey gripped the sides of his throne. “Mother, she is disrespecting me.”

“That I am,” Nelaemera said. “And you can’t do anything about it.”

Joffrey leaped to his feet.” You can’t talk to me like that! I banish you from Westeros!”

Nelaemera tossed her head back in laughter, her violet eyes narrow as she began to slowly walk to the throne. “Allow me to explain something to you…”

The Kingsguard all reached for their swords. Lerylla’s hands flew under her robes before shooting out, a tossing metal flower-shaped object, the razor edge cutting the cheek of one of the men before anyone one could move.

“Best not try that again,” Nelaemera said, still walking. “And it’s best that you move out of my way before I command her to do it again. This time, she won’t miss.”

The Kingsguard looked behind them at Cersei who was struggling to keep her calm face. Inside, she was boiling. She couldn’t believe that this… this child was speaking to her this way, was talking to her son this way. However, to prevent another attack, she nodded for the Kingsguard to step to the side.

Nelaemera smirked. “Good. Now, back to what I was saying, ‘King’ Joffrey.” She stood in front of him, looking into his green eyes. “I’ll be blunt: you need me and wither you admit it or not, your Mother knows it too. So, it’s best that you keep that annoying flytrap you call a mouth shut, and don’t ever speak to me like that again, understood?”

Nelaemera didn’t wait for him to respond, turning on her heel, her long braid slapped Joffrey in the face as she walked down the dais. She stopped as she reached the bottom, looking over her shoulder. “Next time, ‘Queen Regent,’ send your best.”

With that, Nelaemera and her Warriormaids left.

* * *

 

Cersei’s blood boiled like a volcano the moment the doors closed, and Nelaemera was gone. She had sent her soldiers to one simple thing: find the smallest excuse possible and kill that Valyrian Bitch. Inwardly, she knew that her Father would be furious in knowing that she had staged the murder of such a valuable ally; but no one disrespected her and lived to see the next morning.

“Mother… She’s not going to get away with disrespecting me like that, is she?” Joffrey asked.

Cersei gripped the throne tightly in her fists. “No, she won’t…” She looked up as Litterfinger appeared, then turned back to Joffrey. “Sweet One, I must go now, but remember: anyone who is not us, is an enemy.”

Joffrey nodded, turning his attention to the nobles who had appeared back to pay him homage.

Everyone parted as Cersei left the Throne Room and walked to her own personal chambers.

Young Sansa sat in front of her desk, a sight that made Cersei smirk. Good, the Hound had done as she commanded, bringing her ‘Little Dove,’ to her; for a good talking.

“Your Grace, what is going on?” Sansa asked, her blue eyes large and full of worry.

“Your Father has proved to be an awful, traitor, my Dear,” Varys said softly.

“King Robert’s body was still warm when Lord Eddard began plotting to sing Joffrey’s rightful, crown,” Pycelle said.

Sansa looked to Cersei. “He wouldn’t do that; he knows how much I love Joffrey. He wouldn’t…” her voice began to break. “Please Your Grace; there’s been a mistake. Send for my Father, he’ll tell you. The King was his friend.”

Cersei put on her best smile. “Sansa, sweeting, you are innocent of any wrong, we know that…” she took a deep breath as if being very upset. “Yet you are the daughter of a traitor. How can I allow you to marry my son?”

“A child born of a tratiors seed is no fit consort for our King,” Pycelle said. “She is a sweet thing, now Your Grace, but in ten years… who knows what treason she might hatch?”

Sansa’s heart froze in her chest. ‘No… No this can’t be happening! This can’t be happening! They can’t do this! They can’t take Joffrey away from me!’

“No, I’m not!” Sansa protested out loud. “I’ll be a good wife to him, you’ll see!” she turned to Cersei in desperation. “I’ll be a queen just like you, I promise! I won’t hatch anything.”

Cersei stayed silent, pretending to weigh the severity of the matter put before her.

“The Girl is innocent, Your Grace,” Littlefinger whispered loudly. “She should be given a chance to prove her loyalty.”

Cersei stayed silent several moments longer before giving a long, dramatic sigh. “Little Dove?”

“Yes?” Sansa said.

“You must write to your mother, Lady Catelyn. And your brother the eldest, what’s his name?”

“R…Robert,” Sansa said.

“Word of your father’s arrest will reach them soon, no doubt. Best it comes from you.” Cersei put a piece of paper and pen in front of Sansa. “If you would help your father, urge your brother to keep the King’s Peace. Tell him to come to King’s Landing and swear his fealty to Joffrey.”

Sansa looked up from under her lashes, the hard eyes of the Small Council were upon her, plus her Queen. She couldn’t refuse this order, she couldn’t! This was a big mistake, surely in Rob and her Mother got her letter, they’d come down and help!

“What… what will happen to him?” Sansa asked, her voice small.

“That depends,” Cersei replied.

“On what?”

“On your brother.” Cersei picked up the pen, extending it to Sansa. “And on you.”

Sansa looked at the pen, and this time she picked it up.

* * *

Once the letter was written, Sansa sought out the only person in the castle whom she felt she could trust: Nelaemera.

Going to Nelaemera’s chambers, she found her friend writing letters but was confused when she didn’t see a raven nearby.

“Did you hear…?” Sansa whispered. “About my father?”

“Of course,” Nelaemera said, not looking up from her writing. “I have eyes all over the palace.”

“What am I going to do?” Sansa asked, sitting down on one of Nelaemera’s many plump couches. “My father’s a traitor.”

“No he’s not, and whoever told you that is lying.”

Sansa’s eyes widened with fear. “Don’t say that! Someone might hear you!”

“They’d have to get past my guards, and then my Warriormaids,” Nelaemera replied, still not looking up. “I killed five Lannister soldiers this morning, I’d love to repeat it.”

“You… You did what…?”

Nelaemera finally put down her pen, raising her head to look at her friend. “Long story short, the Queen Bitch-ent commanded her soldiers to drag me before the throne, and swear fealty to Joffrey.”

“And… did you…?”

“You can ask the Nobles that saw me deliver the Soldier’s heads for my response.”

“M-Mera! You must be careful! You’re going to make the Queen angry!”

“And your point is? Sansa, she can’t do anything to me. She knows that if a hair is harmed on my head, then my family is invading this land. They think the Burning of Harrenhal was bad, there wouldn’t be hilltop that isn’t leveled when my family was finished with Westeros.”

“But… But would they kill everyone…?”

Nelaemera didn’t reply. The Empire placed a high value on honor, on respect. Generally in situations like this, if there was an internal conflict, it was the New Valyrian way to eliminate everyone associated with the offending party. It was the only way to make sure blood feuds didn’t continue to the next generation.

“I’m… not sure,” Nelaemera lied. “But enough about me, I’m more worried about you. Listen, Sansa, before your father did whatever he did, he sent me a letter. He told me to watch over you and Arya. Where is your sister?”

Sansa sat up from the bed. “Seven gods, I didn’t even think about her! Mera… what if she’s in the Black Cells?”

“I highly doubt that the Lannister’s would put someone as valuable as Arya in the Black Cells… but she is out there somewhere…” She tapped her chin. “I’ll look to it, but until then I plan to do as what your father asked of me. Sansa, I want you to move into my chambers. My bed is big enough for us to share until another one can be brought in.”

Sansa’s face grew got at the idea of sharing a bed with Nelaemera. “T… Thank you Mera, but you don’t have to worry… the Queen Regent has promised me that I can help my Father.”

Nelaemera arched an eyebrow. “Sansa… what did you do?”

“I wrote to Rob, my oldest brother. If he comes and swears fealty to Joffrey, then Father will be saved, and I can still marry him!”

“Sansa… I don’t believe it’s going to be that simple.”

“Wait… no, you’re right, it won’t be that simple. I must beg Joffrey to spare, Father. I’m to be his queen. He’ll listen to me.” She stood to her feet, tugging Nelaemera’s arm.

“Come with me to the Throne Room. You’ll see.”

Nelaemera was as sure as the sun was going to rise the next morning that this wasn’t going to end well. But she couldn’t bring herself to crush Sansa’s feelings. “Alright,” she sighed. “Let’s go.”

Nelaemera nodded to her Warriormaids to follow them, just in case. As the two girls neared the Throne Room, the assembled nobles all took steps back. Words of what Nelaemera had done had spread like wildfire, and no one dared get on her wrong side.

Sansa told Nelaemera to wait for her up in the upper parts of the throne room while she walked down, standing among the nobles closer to the throne.

Nelaemera watched as the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was dismissed, an event that seemed to upset the man. His name was Barristan Selmy, and he was infuriated to learn that his position was being given to Jamie Lannister. Nelaemera hadn’t seen Jamie since she had beaten him in that duel and did wonder where he had gone. Ser Barristan had thrown his sword at the feet of Joffrey and Cersei, telling them to both choke on it before storming away.

“Ralha,” Nelaemera whispered.

Ralha bowed her head, swiftly disappearing in the crowds, following the dismissed knight.

“If anyone has any more matters to place before Hid Grace,” the Herald said before the court. “Let him speak now, or go forth and hold his silence.”

Sansa’s blue eyes met Cersei’s, her heart beating loudly within her chest. She looked to Joffrey, her Golden Prince, sitting upon the Iron Throne so magnificent and regal.

‘Now is my chance,’ she thought to herself. ‘Gods guide my tongue.' Sansa took a deep breath. “Your Grace?” she said, her voice thin.

Cersei gave her a small nod to approach.

“Come forward, my Lady,” Joffrey said, giving her a small smile.

Slowly, Sansa walked forward, feeling all the eyes of the Court upon her. She glanced up into the high parts of the throne room and saw Nelaemera watching her, her friend’s face unreadable.

“Lady Sansa of House Stark,” the Herald said, the Court softly whispering among themselves.

“Do you have business for the King and his Council, Lady Sansa?” Cersei asked, putting on her fakest smile of warmth.

“I do,” Sansa whispered, slowly kneeling before the throne. “As it pleases Your Grace, I ask mercy for my Father. Lord Eddard Stark who is Hand of the King.”

Pycelle turned his head in the direction of Sansa. “Treason is an infernal weed,” he growled. “It should be torn out! Root and steam!”

Joffrey rolled his eyes, bored with this conversation but loving all the attention placed upon him. “Please, let her speak. I want to hear what she says.”

Sansa blinked back the tears she didn’t know were forming in her eyes. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Do you deny your Father’s crime?” Littlefinger asked.

“No, my lords,” Sansa said, shaking her head. “I know he must be punished. But all I ask is mercy. I know my lord father must regret what he did. He was King Robert’s friend, and he loved him, you all know he loved him. He never wanted to be Hand until the King asked him. They must have lied to him, Lord Renly… or Lord Stannis… Somebody, but they must have lied!”

Joffrey looked down, sighing deeply. “He said I wasn’t the king. Why would he say that?”

“He… He was badly hurt,” Sansa replied. “Maester Pycelle was giving him Milk of the Poppy. He wasn’t himself, or else Father never would have said it.”

The room was silent, the weight of Sansa’s words settling upon them.

“A child’s faith…” Varys murmured. “Such sweet innocence… And yet they do say that great wisdom does come from the mouth of babes.”

“Treason is treason!” Pycelle bellowed again.

From where she stood, Nelaemera gripped the banister in front of her. She had to hold onto it tightly it, or else she would jump down and slit the old, fat man’s throat. He was starting to really annoy her.

“Anything else?” Joffrey asked.

“If… if you still have any affection in your heart for me in your heart, please… do me this kindness your Grace,” Sansa begged.

Joffrey sat back on his throne, pretending to consider her words. He glanced up to the people watching them, his eyes falling upon Nelaemera. Burning hatred filled his core along with… something else that he couldn’t name. He looked back to Sansa.

“Your sweet words have moved me,” Joffrey said. “But your Father has to confess his crimes. He must confess and say that I -am- the King. Or there will be no mercy for him.”

Sansa nodded. “He will. I promise he will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this new chapter, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Please don't hesitate to comment or like this chapter, although I would prefer your feedback as love to know what you think of the book.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> —Rae


	12. Part I — Chapter XII

Robb Stark stared in disbelief at the letter before him. It had arrived at sunrise, delivered by a raven from King’s Landing. Robb couldn’t believe what he was reading;

_“Robb, I write to you with a heavy heart. Our good King Robert is dead, killed from wounds he took in a boar hunt. Father has been charged with treason. He conspired with Robert’s brothers against my beloved Joffrey and tried to steal his throne. The Lannister’s are treating me very well and provide me with every comfort. I beg you: come to King’s Landing, swear fealty to King Joffrey and prevent any strife between the great houses of Lannister and Stark._

_Signed,_

_Sansa.”_

_“Maester Luwin?” Robb called. “Can you come here?”_

The elderly Maester in charge of Winterfell appeared, bowing before his young lord. “Yes, my Lord?”

“Read this, it’s Sansa but… the words are not her own.”

Maester Luwin’s eyes scanned the paper and frowned. “It appears, my Lord, that you are summoned to King’s Landing to swear fealty to King Joffrey.”

“Joffrey puts my Father in chains, and now he wants his ass kissed?” Robb scoffed.

“My lord… I must caution you of the consequences if you refuse to obey…"

“I’m not refusing. His Grace summons me to King’s Landing, I’ll come to King’s Landing,” Robb crumbled the paper into a tight ball in his fist. “But not alone. Call the banners.”

Sitting at Robb’s side, his childhood friend Theon chuckled to himself.

“All of them, my Lord?” Maester Luwin asked.

“They’ve all sworn to defend my Father, have they not?”

“They have…”

“Now we’ll see what their words are worth.”

“War has not been waged on the Seven Kingdoms for over a decade. You will need advice.”

At that very moment, the horns from the towers bellowed. A stranger was approaching the castle.

Robb glanced to Theon, both grabbing their swords and rushing to the top of the battlements. Grey Wind hurried behind Robb, the direwolf close on the heels of its master as they ran up the stairs to look out of one of the towers.

What Robb and Theon saw was a sight they’d never thought they’d ever see in their lives.

It was a man, sitting on top of a massive wolf; at least the creature looked to be a wolf. It was as big as a horse, maybe bigger, but had both a saddle and harness like a horse would have.

“What in Seven Hells…?” Theon whispered.

They watched as Stark Guards approached the man, demanding to know who he was, and what was his business.

“My name is Ballonos Dirrelar,” the man replied. “And I come at the bidding of my Lady, the Princess Nelaemera of House Naelgyreon. I carry news of Lord Eddard Stark, and was told to talk with his son and heir, Lord Robb.”

“Let him in,” Robb blurted out before he could stop himself.

The guards and this, Ballonos, looked up, the wolf-horse-creature, mimicking it’s rider’s movements.

“Are you sure, my Lord?” the guard asked.

“Yes,” Robb answered, knowing he couldn’t go back now. “Let him in, right now.”

The guards did as they were told, stepping aside and allowing Ballonos to ride inside.

The New Valyrian Guard was grateful that he bought furs along the path, as the temperature had changed dramatically on the ride up here. He slid from the back of his Hound, patting the creature’s massive neck as Robb and Theon appeared from one of the doors.

“You say you carry news from my father?” Robb asked. “I’ve never heard of your House before.”

“My House is not from Westeros,” Ballonos replied. “A lot has happened in the South, but my Princess has sent me here to give you both aid and guidance.”

Theon frowned. “Don’t listen to him Robb, for all we know he could be a Lannister spy. Look at him.”

“Since when do Lannister’s have dogs the size of horses?” Robb asked his friend, shaking his head. “No, I will listen to what he says. Tell me, does your Princess hate the Lannister’s?”

Ballonos smirked. “With all of her heart.”

“Then an enemy of the Lannister’s is a friend of mine,” Robb said, grasping Ballonos’ arm. “Come and warm yourself by the fire, I’m sure we have much to talk about.”

* * *

Sirylea and Lerylla walked together through the dark halls that were the Black Cells. Both girls were dressed as common Red Keep wenches, their Warriormaid robes back in Nelaemera’s rooms. The two had been instructed by their princess to talk to Lord Eddard Stark, to uncover why he was really sent to this place.

“Such disgusting places,” Lerylla said, holding up the edge of her stolen clothing with one hand, a torch in the other.

“It’s not so bad,” Sirylea replied, holding a platter of food in her hands. “They just don’t clean here much…”

Lerylla rolled her eyes, the two Warriormaids teased talking the moment they came upon the guard standing in front of Eddard’s cell.

“Hey! You two! What are ya doin’ down ‘er?” the Guard barked.

“Delivering food,” Sirylea replied, extending the platter for him to inspect if he wished.

“The Queen Regent has commanded that the Traitor not have any visitors,” the Guard growled.

Lerylla stepped forward, her hypnotic grey eyes glowing in the low light. “Are you sure?” she asked, pouting as if she was terribly upset. “We are just trying to make sure he survives for his trial tomorrow…”

The Guard froze, drawn in by her eyes. “I… I…”

“The food isn’t that good but… we could offer you some wine, as payment?” Lerylla asked, producing a small glass from her skirts. “And… maybe some fun time?”

The Guard grinned, greedily reaching for the wine and guzzling it down. No sooner than the wine passed his lips, did the Guard’s eyes roll in the back of his head, falling face-first onto the hardwood of his desk.

“Men of Westeros surely have no honor,” Lerylla scoffed. “But we must hurry, the sleeping powder in that wine only gives us an hour.”

Sirylea nodded, the disguised Royal Guard they had brought with them dragged the body into a corner before taking its place. That way, both girls wouldn’t be disrupted for at least an hour.

Eddard Stark jumped as the door to his cell opened, the light of the torch hurting his eyes as he saw two girls approach him. They didn’t appear to be much older than Sansa so Eddard couldn’t understand why they were here.

“Who…” he tried to speak but his dry throat burned. “Who… Who are you?”

“Be at ease, my Lord,” Sirylea said, placing the platter of food and fresh water before him. “We were sent by our Lady, Princess Nelaemera.”

Eddard reached for the food, but the chains on his wrists prevented him from doing so. Lerylla reached into her dress, producing a strange object that Eddard had never seen before. She put it into the locks that held him, his chains unclasping around his wrists. He grabbed for the food, eating it without shame before the two Ladies.

“You work for the Valyrian Princess?” Eddard said, stopping briefly from his feast, he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten.

“Yes, we do,” Sirylea said. “My name is Sirylea, that is Lerylla. We are friends to you.”

“It appears you and your Princess is all I have…” Eddard grumbled under his breath.

“That is not true,” Sirylea said. “Many still love you here, we see. Your daughter, Sansa, came to court this morning to plead for your life.”

Eddard arched an eyebrow, unable to believe this. “How…” he looked to the two girls, a question burning in his mind. “What… what are you? Normal maids wouldn’t come down here.”

“We aren’t normal maids,” Sirylea replied. “We are Warriormaids. Born and raised to be warriors, to be a second shadow to our Lady. Where Mera goes, we follow.”

“And your Lady… she protects my daughters?”

“She has Sansa with her. But Arya has gone missing. The other two maids are searching for her. However, we must tell you, that your son is marching South with a huge army. Loyal young man, fighting for his father’s freedom.”

“Robb?” Eddard gasped. “He’s… he’s just a boy…”

“Children are much more capable then you would think. But he’s not the one who’s worrying the Queen Regent, it’s another man… Stannis Baratheon. It appears that he got your letter.”

Eddard had almost forgotten about the letters he had sent out after Robert’s death, telling Stannis that he was the rightful king.

“Apparently, this Stannis believes that he has the best claim to the throne.”

“He does have the best claim!” Eddard said. “He is the rightful king, the throne is his by right.”

“How could he say that, when Joffrey is King Robert’s son?”

Eddard said nothing, his eyes downcast.

“Because he’s not,” Lerylla said, one to rarely speak. “Is that true, my Lord?”

“Yes, it is,” Eddard confirmed. “That was the secret that I dared not write to your Princess. He’s the son of the Queen and her brother, Ser Jamie.”

Lerylla and Sirylea both made faces of disgust. Incest. It was a forbidden subject within the New Valyrian Empire. It was said that the matriarch of House Naelgyreon, back when it was a minor dragonlord House in the Valyrian Freehold, found the practice disgusting. When her grandson conquered the land that would become the Empire, he made incest illegal. Relationships between same sexes were perfectly fine, with most citizens within the Empire having relationships with both men and women; but incest was taboo.

“That’s quite the accusation,” Sirylea whispered. “How do we know that he’s telling the truth?”

“Because Lord Stark is a man of honor,” Lerylla said. “He wouldn’t lie about something grave, would you?”

“No,” Eddard said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t.”

“Then we have a problem,” Sirylea said. “Sansa pleaded for your life before the whole court. Joffrey has promised to spare you as long as you confess your crimes.”

“But I have no crimes!” Eddard protested. “All I have done is try to do the right thing. I can’t make a mockery of all that I believe in.”

“Sometimes… my Lord, we have to make sacrifices. Your daughter is a gentle flower in a field of thorns. She has more use of a living father than one who is dead.”

Eddard frowned, turning his back on the two Maid’s a moment, trying to figure out what to do. Eddard couldn’t give up what he believed in, he couldn’t serve the woman who had killed his men and tried to kill his son because Brann saw her and Jamie together.

And yet…

“And if I admit my crimes?” Eddard whispered.

“We listened in on a Small Council meeting. She said that she’d let you do something called Take the Black,” Sirylea replied.

“She’d send me to the Wall,” Eddard murmured. “But that would leave Sansa and Arya here alone.”

“The Princess is looking after Sansa, and the other Warriormaids are looking for Arya,” Sirylea reminded him. “She is taking care of her daughters, but right now, you need to look after yourself. The Lannister’s will murder your family in cold blood, is that what you want?”

No, it wasn’t what Eddard wanted at all. He needed to protect his family, and if that meant swallowing his pride and honor, then he would do it.

* * *

 

Inside her chambers, Nelaemera paced the floor, her mind buzzing like a beehive.

Sansa trusted Joffrey. Nelaemera didn’t.

Sansa trusted Cersei. Nelaemera didn’t.

Sansa trusted that her father would confess his ‘crimes,’ and the Lannister’s would honor their agreement in letting Eddard go free. Nelaemera didn’t.

Nelaemera knew deep down that this ‘trial’ in the morning wasn’t going to go the way that Sansa wanted it to be. She had seen enough of these Lannister’s to know that they weren’t going to just let Lord Stark go.

“Mera?” a soft voice whispered.

Nelaemera looked up and saw that Lerylla and Sirylea had returned, both having changed back into their Warriormaids robes and veils.

“How did it go, with Lord Stark?” Nelaemera asked.

“He has agreed to take the Lannister Woman’s offer,” Sirylea said. “However… he told us something troubling.”

Nelaemera arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Joffrey isn’t the son of Robert Baratheon,” Sirylea explained. “He’s the son of the Lannister Woman and her brother.”

Nelaemera’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait… what?”

Her Warriormaids nodded, and slowly the pieces began to fuse together in Nelaemera’s mind. Everything made sense now, now she understood the big secret that Lord Stark wouldn’t dare put to paper.

Raised as a warrior, Nelaemera was trained to read body language in anticipation of an attack. In her short time being in King’s Landing, Nelaemera had inwardly thought that the bond Cersei and her brother Jamie strangely close, but she didn’t know much on it. Then there were the children.

The people of New Valyria prided themselves on being highly advanced, having taken the technology used in Old Valyria and the land that became the Empire. For example, running water was provided in virtually every home, and if passed through the underground heaters then it could be warmed. Steam could be used to power ships, and they were even experimenting with coal. The land was rich in iron which could be turned not steel, providing better internal support for housing and buildings.

They understood basic biology, such as it took both a man and a woman to make a child; not just a woman as most of the world believed. When it came time for a child to be born, Nelaemera’s people knew that there was half a chance for it to look like the mother and half a chance for it to look like a father. If the father had darker features, it was a greater chance for the child to have those same features.

Robert Baratheon was a tanned-skinned man, with hair as black as ebony and blue eyes. His brother, Renly, had the same features. Thus, it was logical to believe that Robert and Cersei’s children should have dark hair and blue eyes. Yet they didn’t. Joffrey and his siblings all had golden-blonde hair and green eyes, the features infamous of Lannister’s.

“She’s going to kill him,” Nelaemera whispered, almost to herself.

“What?” Lana, one of her Warriormaids said, confused. “What do you mean.”

“The Lannister Woman isn’t going to let Lord Stark live, knowing he knows this,” Nelaemera repeated. “Wither it be on the road to this Wall, or strangled in his Cell. We have to save him.”

“Now?” Ralha asked, crossing her arms. “We can’t keep on sneaking back down there. We’ll be caught, and the Lannister Woman will torture us!”

Nelaemera hurried to her fireplace and quickly scribbled down a note. Pricking her finger with a letter opener, Nelaemera pressed it to the paper and tossed it into the flames. Nelaemera didn’t know what time it was in New Valyria, but she prayed to the gods that a Fyremage would be waiting.

An unknown amount of time had passed before another letter appeared, this time with a small package. Nelaemera quickly took it out, opening both letter and package with a confused look on her face. Inside the package was a bizarre necklace that Nelaemera had never seen before. It looked to be made of some type of silver metal, shaped into that of a dragon in flight, wrapped around an eye with a large ruby as the pupil.

_Your Grace,_

_We are entrusting you with this magical necklace that is blessed by the gods._

_It possesses the power to glamour anyone, to look like and keep that appearance for as long as you wish_.

Foun _d among the treasures of Old Valyria, I have gained permission from His Grace, your Father, to gift it to you for your cause_.

Mad _e of Valyrian Steel, the jewel that forms the pupil is known as a dragonblood ruby._

_Your Grace, it can only be used three times before it loses its power, so I beg you to choose wisely_

_Fyremage, Visevon_

Nelaemera held the necklace tightly by it’s braided silver chain, an idea coming instantly in her head.

“One of you, bring Varys to me.”

* * *

 

The sun shined down among a cloudless sky as a crowd gathered in front of a building called the Great Sept of Baelor. Nelaemera had read that it as built by some Targaryen King who was beloved by the smallfolk and believed profoundly in the primary religion here, called the Faith of the Seven.

Nelaemera doubted that these people really understood what was happening today, as the nobles here believed the poor to be powerless. In New Valyria, this belief was the opposite, with the poor and lower classes having more rights than most nobles. They had to be protected, they had to be respected, they couldn’t be abused, et cetera.

On a large platform, Cersei, Joffrey, and Sansa stood side-by-side; all having smiles plastered upon their faces. All the members of the Kingsguard stood behind them, their hands upon their swords, ready for an attack or any sign of trouble.

“Make way!” Harlan barked, he and the other guards pushing the smallfolk out of the way to clear a path. “Make way, for Her Grace Nelaemera Naelgyreon!”

At the mention of Nelaemera’s name, the smiles dropped from the faces of Cersei and Joffrey, although Sansa seemed to smile wider.

“Princess Nelaemera,” Joffrey said. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to support my friend,” Nelaemera replied, walking up the stairs.

Cersei’s eyes ranked over Nelaemera’s outfit. “You look like you’re dressed for a funeral.”

Nelaemera hid her small smile. She was dressed in a simple black silken dress, a thick golden rope wrapped around her slender waist, fashioned like a belt.

“I do like your necklace,” Sansa said, looking at the dragon pendant. “Where did you get it?”

“It was just sitting in my jewelry box,” Nelaemera lied, shrugging casually. “If you want, I’ll let you borrow something if you want.”

Sansa’s face lit up. “I would love that.”

The smallfolk crowd began to yell, as doors opened, and Eddard Stark appeared. Two members of the City Watch each holding his arms on either side. He was lead slowly down the middle of the screaming crowd, the smallfolk yelling and shouting obscenities at him.

Nelaemera’s hand went to her necklace, rubbing the dragonblood ruby nervously between her fingers. Something terrible was going to happen today, and Nelaemera was going to be ready for it.

Eddard Stark was lead to the platform, the place growing silent as Eddard surveyed everyone before him. He was still mentally weighing the pros and cons of refusing to speak, but as Eddard looked into the crowd, he saw the two more important people in the world to him.

Sansa and Arya. He could see his youngest daughter hiding among the crowd, and his eldest stood only a couple of feet next to him. Eddard had to swallow his pride and do what was best for them.

So, he took a deep breath and began to speak.

“I am Eddard Stark,” he said. “Lord of Winterfell, and Hand of the King….”

His voice trailed off as he looked to Sansa, who gave him a small, reassuring nod for him to continue.

Eddard took another deep breath. “I come before you to confess my treason, in the sight of gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my King and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to defend and protect his children, but before his blood was cold, I plotted to murder his son… and seize the throne for myself.”

The crowd began to yell again, all shoving and trying to throw rocks or rotten food at him. A tomato did strike the side of his head, Sansa flinched.

“May the High Septon… and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say,” Eddard continued. “Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir, to the Iron Throne, by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms… and Protector of the Realm.”

Nelaemera watched as Joffrey’s stupid little face became besotted with joy. The spoiled brat turning to his mother in excitement, before then looking to Nelaemera herself. Joffrey flashed her this goofy, almost flirtatious smile, before turning to look at Pycelle.

The old goat began to talk, saying words that glossed over Nelaemera’s head and that she didn’t care. Pycelle walked about forgiveness, sins, justice, and other things that made no sense to Nelaemera and others.

Joffrey raised his hand for silence, basking in all the attention. “My Mother wants me to let Lord Eddard join the Night’s Watch, stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permeant exile. And my Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her Father.” The smile slowly dropped from his face. “but they have the soft hearts of women, so long as I’m your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Illyn, bring me his head!”

Chaos erupted.

Nelaemera watched as Lord Eddard was forced onto his knees, and a man masked in black drew a longsword, holding it proudly in the air. The smallfolk all began to scream hysterically, all shouting for Eddard’s blood.

Cersei grabbed Joffrey’s arm, hissing, “Stop this!” in his ear.

“Joffrey please!” Sansa screamed. “You promised! You promised mercy!”

She tried to rush forward, but a Kingsguard grabbed her, wrapping his powerful arms around her fragile body.

At the sight of that, Nelaemera rushed forward, drawing a blade from up her sleeve and pressing it against the back of his throat.

“You have five seconds to let Lady Sansa go before I slit you from ear to ear,” she hissed in his ear.

The Kingsguard was prepared to whip around and slap whoever had spoken to him, but when he saw Nelaemera, he quickly let Sansa go. Nelaemera wrapped her arms around her friend, telling her to turn away as Ser Illyn approached Eddard.

“Joff, stop it,” Cersei hissed. “This is madness!”

Joffrey ignored her, pleasure shooting through him as the crowd screamed louder and louder for Eddard’s death. He turned to look at where Sansa and Nelaemera stood, but he ignored the former and fastened his eyes upon the latter. There was something about this dark-skinned princess who glared at him without fear or was cowered before him. She was different than all the other girls in King’s Landing, and that was something that Joffrey liked.

The Kingsguard forced Eddard upon his knees, the sword was being raised, his hair was pushed back to expose his neck.

No one was paying any attention to her, this was Nelaemera’s chance.

Nelaemera focused on the glamour, forcing the magic within the necklace to bend to her whim. “ _Nyke brōzagon bē aōha power,_ arlinnon _zirȳla_!” she whispered.

The sword came swiftly down, and Eddard Stark’s head was separated from his shoulders.

Or was it…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this new chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. Please don't hesitate to comment or like this chapter, although I would prefer your feedback as love to know what you think of the piece.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> —Rae


	13. Part I — Chapter XIII

Sansa stared unblinkingly at the head as it dropped from her father’s shoulders. Sansa wasn’t stupid, she knew what death was, but for a moment all she wanted to do was run to the head and beg for her father to come back. Gone was the man who had raised her, gone was the man who had loved her, gone was the man who had brought to her to King’s Landing.

Her father was dead.

Nelaemera saw Sansa sway, quickly thrusting out her hands to catch her friend as she collapsed unconscious.

“Harlan!” Nelaemera shouted over the screaming crowds. “Harlan, come here now!”

Her royal guard appeared within moments. “Yes, Princess?”

“Help me carry Sansa back to my chambers,” Nelaemera said. “Please, we must hurry.”

Harlan quickly grabbed Sansa, scooping her gently in his arms as he shouted for the other Valyrian to make him a path.

Nelaemera was going to follow, but before she left, she turned around and fixed her icy glaze upon Cersei. The Lannister Woman was going to pay severely for this, her and her spoiled son Joffrey. But first, Nelaemera had to tend to Sansa.

Following by her Warriormaids, Nelaemera pushed her way through the tightly packed crowds and returned to her chambers. Harlan was laying Sansa on the bed, looking to his princess for guidance.

“Lana, I want you to go get Sansa’s belongings and bring them here,” Nelaemera said, going to the fireplace to heat up some water. “She is staying here. I won’t let the Lannister’s harm her. Not while I have breath in my body.”

“What if I’m stopped by Cersei’s Men?” Lana asked.

“Take Harlan and a couple of my guards with you. Also, take Sirylea. You all should be more than a match for any Westerosi knight.”

They nodded, going to do as instructed as Nelaemera and Ralha turned to tend to Sansa.

Carefully, the two undressed her, taking off the gown that had her father’s blood soaked into the hem, and instead put her into a simple silk undergown of Nelaemera’s.

Nelaemera unbraided Sansa’s hair from the ridiculous Southern hairstyle, letting the scarlet locks fall free.

“What is going to happen to her?” Ralha whispered, bringing a bowl of heated water and a towel. “They’ll kill her.”

“No, they won’t,” Nelaemera said, putting the towel into the water to wipe Sansa’s brow. “They need her, and they need her alive. Her brother is going to go into open rebellion once he hears of this, so they need her as leverage.”

“We aren’t going to give her to Them… right?”

“Of course not. As of this moment, Sansa is an honorary member of House Naelgyreon, no harm is going to come to her.”

Sansa began to cry in her sleep, whimpering softly as she started to no doubt have nightmares of the horror she had just witnessed.

* * *

 

Harlan, Lana, and the others all returned to Nelaemera’s chambers, carrying Sansa’s belongings. It wasn’t a lot of things, but they belonged to Sansa. By orders of Nelaemera, Sansa’s items were put into her inner chambers, placed next to the door for Sansa to put away herself.

There was a soft knock on the door, Harlan’s hand going to this sword as he went to answer it. A couple of moments later, he returned, his face grave.

“That was a lady-in-waiting to the Lannister Woman,” he said. “She commands you to come to her chambers immediately.”

“When will these Westerosi learn that you don’t command a Dragon?” Nelaemera murmured angrily. Ralha, you and Lana stay here, watch over Sansa. Lerylla and Sirylea, come with me. I’m taking Alyhna too, I don’t trust her.”

“As you should,” Ralha said, nodding.

It wasn’t hard to find Cersei’s chambers, two Lannister guards letting the small party inside. Cersei was sitting behind a desk, two of her ladies behind her, trying to look regal and in power. But to Nelaemera, it was a poor façade.

“You summoned me?” Nelaemera asked, resting her hand on the back of her Hound.

“Yes, I did,” Cersei replied, raising her chin. “It was told to me, by the guards, that you have the Lady Sansa.”

“Did you have to state the obvious?”

Cersei gripped the armrests of her chair. “So that is not a denial?”

“No, it is not. As of this moment, the Ladies Sansa and Arya Stark are honorary members of House Naelgyreon of the New Valyrian Empire. As the representative of my House, they are under my full protection.”

“But we aren’t in the New Valyrian Empire,” Cersei retorted, her fury rising. “We are in Westeros, the kingdom in which I am the Queen!”

“You are the Queen Regent, yes. But only for as long as your son stays single. I wonder what happens when he marries… when another woman comes and becomes queen.”

Cersei leaped to her feet. “I am the Queen of Westeros, and I am ordering you hand over Sansa Stark. You refuse, and you will be charged for treason, you saw what happened to Eddard Stark. What would your high and mighty father think if I delivered your head to him on a satin pillow?”

Nelaemera’s lips curved into a smile and clasped her hands in front of her. “I will tell you exactly what will happen if you did such a thing. The first thing my Father would do is summon his sitting army of almost a million-strong. That is the total population of King’s Landing, correct? After he summons his army, then my Father will board his ships, and be upon Westerosi shores within two fortnights. Once he lands he will make the infamous Field of Fire look like child’s play, that was battle in which whole Great Houses were wiped from the earth. That was also the battle in which Loren Lannister became known as Loren the Last King of the Rock.

“Once my Father is finished burning Westeros to the ground with our 5,000 mounted dragonknights, and our almost a million strong army; he will begin the beheadings. One by one, he will hunt down those responsible for my death, until the only ones left are you and yours. Since you are unfortunately high born, he will give you the honor to meet your end bathed in dragon fire. You see, unlike Sansa, who you can bully, I have the force of a Valyrian Empire backing me; and if a single white hair falls from my head, there will be hell to pay.”

Cersei was trying—and failing—to stand firm, to not tremble. “You… You dare…”

“I dare, ‘Your Grace’ because I can,” Nelaemera snapped, all manner of decorum lost. “You killed an innocent man, you and I know that. Lord Eddard knew your secret and before he died… he told it to me.”

All the blood drained from Cersei’s face, her mouth flapping open like a fish gasping for water. Nelaemera pressed her advantage.

“But don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone,” Nelaemera said. “No… I’m going to do something much, much worse.”

“And what… what is that…?”

Nelaemera chuckled ruefully, turning her back on the woman. “You took away something that Sansa loved, and I’m going to do the same thing to you. Good day.

* * *

 

Sansa awoke late the following evening, one of Nelaemera’s Lady’s mopping her brow.

“Thank the goddess,” the Lady said. “You have awoken. I was worried you had a fever.”

Sansa’s eyelids felt heavy, they felt hot. Her body strangely was light, and she looked down, gasping in surprise when she saw the loose sleeping silks she was wearing. “Where… Where am I?”

“Princess Nelaemera’s rooms,” the Lady replied, helping Sansa sit up. “She brought you here after…”

Her voice trailed off, but Sansa knew what the girl wanted to say: ‘after your father’s trial and execution.’

“Where… where is Mera?” Sansa asked.

“The Princess stepped out for a moment but said she will be back later tonight. She asked that you remain in her chambers, however, if you must go out then take a guard and one of her Warriormaids.”

Sansa looked around the room she was in, quickly realizing that this was Nelaemera’s sleeping chambers. Her face grew hot, as she understood that meant that the bed she was laying in, had to be Nelaemera’s as well.

“Can you… can you help me dress?” Sansa asked softly. “I… I would like to walk among the Red Keep.”

“Of course,” the Lady said. “the Princess offered you to wear one of her gowns if you wished, but she also brought your things from your chambers as well.”

With the help of the Lady, Sansa dressed in a soft pink gown and had her hair braided like the Queen’s. Leaving Nelaemera’s chambers, Sansa saw two of the Warriormaids and several of the guards, sitting on couches and talking.

“Ex… Excuse me?” Sansa whispered.

The Warriormaids looked up, their eyes from behind their veils meeting Sansa’s.

“Yes, My Lady?” one of them said.

“I…I would like to go walked around the Red Keep…” Sansa whispered. “But Mera said I should take you with me.”

The Warriormaid nodded. “Yes, she told us that as well. Where would you like to go?”

“Just a walk,” Sansa replied. “But um… before we go, is it possible I could… I could see your faces?”

She had only seen them wearing their veils, and Sansa inwardly was curious about what they looked like. The Warriormaids looked at each other but shrugged, both reaching their hands up and taking off their veils.

They both had dark skin, like Nelaemera, Sansa saw, but one had black hair while the other had… blue? The one with blue hair had eyes the color of molten gold, while the one with fluffy, black hair had deep brown eyes.

“What are your names?” Sansa asked.

“I am Ralha,” the one with blue hair said. “And that is Lana.”

“Do you… do you fight?” Sansa asked.

“Only if need be,” Lana replied. “We are Warriormaids, women trained from our birth to protect the female members of House Naelgyreon.”

“And now we shall protect you, as Mera instructed it,” Ralha replied.

“I… I thank you… for that,” Sansa said. “I thank Mera for that.”

“She’d do anything for you,” Lana said, as she and Ralha put on their veils, fastening them securely.

Sansa turned away so for them to not see her burning cheeks. Nelaemera was going out of her way to protect her… she couldn’t help but wonder why.

Trailed by the Warriormaids and two of Nelaemera’s royal guards, Sansa walked down the halls of the Red Keep. What was she going to do? She was trapped in King’s Landing, her brother was in open rebellion against Joffrey. Fear struck through Sansa, as she was worried that now it was possible she couldn’t marry Joffrey.

‘Do I want that now?’ Sansa wondered to herself. ‘Do I really want to be bound to him for all eternity?’

Sansa’s feet led her to the Throne Room, where Joffrey was holding court. All the nobles parted out of her way, not that Sansa minded, although she would have preferred to hide in the back. An unfortunate Singer was singing a terrible song about King Robert and Queen Cersei, and Joffrey interrupted him by asking if the Singer could keep one, what did he want: his tongue or his hands. The Singer replied hands, so Joffrey told Ser Illyn to cut out the Singer’s tongue, before rising from his throne, handing his crown to his mother, and saying her to continue in his absence.

As Joffrey began to walk up the stairs to leave, his eyes fell upon Sansa’s form. He instantly glanced behind her, looking for Nelaemera, but didn’t see her. This made Joffrey frown, as he knew that the Valyrian Princess was always Sansa’s shadow, so it annoyed him that she was nowhere to be seen. Joffrey didn’t like being annoyed, being annoyed made him angry, and so he figured that he should take it out on Sansa.

“You look quite nice,” Joffrey said, his Kingsguard trailing behind him.

“Thank you… my lord…” Sansa whispered.

“Your Grace,” Joffrey corrected her. “I’m king now.”

Behind them, the poor Singer was screaming, begging for his life. Sansa glanced behind Joffrey; briefly, she could see Ser Illyn heating up his knife on the brazier.

“Walk with me,” Joffrey commanded, not at all disturbed by the screams. “I want to show you something.”

Without Nelaemera around, Sansa knew better than to refuse an order by her king. So, she followed him, although Nelaemera’s Warriormaids and guards trailed behind closely. Just as the two of them left, Ser Illyn sliced the Singer’s tongue clean off with his knife; spraying blood and vomit in all directions.

Joffrey led Sansa alongside the battlements of the Red Keep, walking casually.

“As soon as you’ve had your blood, I’ll put a son in you,” Joffrey said bluntly, catching Sansa by surprise. “Mother said that shouldn’t be long.”

Sansa fought against the urge to vomit at his words. Her mother had always taught her that the act of making children was one of love, the ultimate type of love. But the thought of doing that with Joffrey…

“…I will most likely name him Tywin, Mother said that I must, something about respecting my grandfather…” Joffrey continued.

He glanced at Sansa with an annoyed look in his eyes. Why wasn’t she saying anything back to him, why wasn’t she mouthing off? Nelaemera would have said something extremely haughty by now, followed by telling Joffrey where he could take respecting his grandfather. Sansa was nothing like the sharp tongued, quick-tempered New Valyrian Princess.

It was absolutely pathetic, at least in Joffrey’s eyes. That’s why he was taking her to this spot, to show her how pathetic she really was, how she was nothing to him.

They came to a stop in front of a line of pikes, Joffrey looking up in glee. Sansa stopped just behind him, but when she followed his gaze, the scream that tore from her throat came out on its own.

It was her Father’s fresh head, along with Septa Mordane’s as well.

“No please, no!” Sansa wailed, jerking her head away. “Please!”

One of Joffrey’s Kingsguard, Meryn Trant, grabbed Sansa by the shoulders to prevent her from running away.

“That ones your Father, I believe,” Joffrey said, walking closer to the heads. “This one here.” He turned to look at her, anger filling him as he saw her snivel and whimper in fright. “Look at it and see what happens to traitors.”

Sansa shook her head, whimpering. “Please… Please… please stop… You promised to be merciful.”

“But I saw,” Joffrey replied. “I gave him a clean, quick death.” He looked at the heads then back to Sansa. “Look at him.”

“Please, let me go,” Sansa begged. “I promise I won’t do any treason, I swear it… I’ll take Mera and…”

“Mother says, I’m still to marry you,” Joffrey barked, an emotion that he had never felt before—jealousy—rising within him, hearing his familiar she was with the Princess. “So, you’ll stay here, and obey. Now, I said to LOOK AT HIM!”

Slowly, Sansa raised her eyes to look at the head, she could hear the buzzing of flies, see the unclotted blood dripping down the pole.

“Well?” Joffrey asked.

“How long do I have to look?” Sansa asked, her voice bearly above a whisper.

“As long as it pleases me,” Joffrey replied. “But I’ll tell you what, I’m going to give you a present on our wedding day. After I raise my armies and kill your traitor brother, I’m going to give you his head as well.”

Sansa’s body was frozen in place, her pale-blue eyes fastened upon her father’s head. The next words exited her mouth before she knew what she was saying. “Or maybe he’ll give me yours.”

Joffrey whipped around in a fury. This was the type of spirit he wanted, the kind of anger and fire… but it was all wrong. No, no it sounded entirely wrong coming out of Sansa’s mouth. She was a fool, a spineless, sniveling fool; how dare she try and be like the Valyrian Princess with her spirit! He had to punish her.

“My mother tells me that a king should never strike his lady,” Joffrey said through gritted teeth. “Ser Meryn…”

The knight turned Sansa around, pulling his hand back and striking her hard across the face with his gloved palm, twice. This snapped the New Valyrian Guards and Nelaemera’s Warriormaids out of their state in shock. They couldn’t attack Joffrey themselves, no matter how much they wanted too at that moment, but a lowly knight was another matter.

Ralha reached inside her robes, pulling out a lion-headed Valyrian steel dagger. Lana leaped forward, grabbing the back of Ser Meryn’s cloak, yanking him back hard enough so that he staggered back. Once he was within grasp, Ralha pressed her dagger against his throat, the cold steel biting into his flesh.

“Call them off!” Joffrey commanded Sansa. “Do it now! I order you!”

Blood trickled down Sansa’s cut lip, the open flesh stinging as if she had been stung by a bee when she tried to lick it away.

“Please stop…” Sansa whispered to the Warriormaids. “Let… Let him go.”

Ralha didn’t want too, but instead pressed the dagger closer to Ser Meryn’s throat, hard enough for it to leave a cut; before she finally let him go.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Sansa whispered.

Her eyes traveled down to the ground below them, and she figured that from where they stood, it was a good five meters from the field. Her eyes filled with hot, angry tears as she began to walk towards him; death on her mind.

Just as Sansa was about to push him off, Ralha reached out and grabbed her arm, turning her around.

“My Lady, you are bleeding,” Ralha said from behind her veil. “Allow me to assist you.”

Taking out a small napkin, Ralha gently dabbed away the blood, making sure Sansa kept her eyes on her.

Joffrey watched this with boredom, and once the blood was cleaned away, he stepped closer to Sansa. “Will you obey now? Or do you need another lesson?”

Sansa said nothing and instead stepped aside as Joffrey and his guards walked away.

“I’ll see you in Court,” Joffrey shot over his shoulder, disappearing down the hall.

“Why did you stop me?” Sansa asked.

“Because it would be your death sentence if you pushed him off,” Lana replied.

“And the Princess would be furious with us, in preventing your death,” Ralha said. “Come on, let us return to her chambers, she will be returning soon, and I doubt she will be happy in seeing your cut lip.”

* * *

 

Nelaemera and the other two members of her Warriormaids walked down the streets of Flea Bottom, disguised as smallfolk. They were on their way to meet Varys, but how they would find the Eunuch was going to be difficult. There were almost a million people inside this city.

A child appeared, tugging on Nelaemera’s hand with a soft giggle and pulling her to follow her. Nelaemera arched an eyebrow but didn’t pull away; instead, she followed the girl. Together they hurried down streets, guided by the child until they came to what small house.

Nelaemera looked to her Warriormaids, the two girls nodding and standing outside to guard as she stepped inside.

It was dimly lit, save for a handful of candles. A figure moved by one of the candles, revealing himself to be Varys.

“Your Grace,” Varys said, bowing.

“Where is he?” Nelaemera asked.

Varys stood to his feet and walked to a door, knocking on it twice. Nelaemera held her breath until the door opened, and Eddard Stark stepped into the room.

He was dressed as smallfolk, his face covered in dirt and grime, his hair cut short. His clothing was ragged, but he was alive, that was the important thing.

“Your Grace,” Eddard said, bowing his head.

“Please, Lord Stark, don’t do that,” Nelaemera said. “You do not have to bow to me now.”

“I still don’t know… how this is possible,” Eddard said. “I was beheaded.”

“No, you weren’t,” Nelaemera said, pulling her cloak aside to reveal her necklace. “I glamoured you, as well as a serial rapist who was trying to escape from prison. Long story short, you were switched at the last moment, and he was beheaded in your place. The magic glamours him only for so long, by before anyone knows the better I’ll have my guards to make the head disappear.”

“I don’t… I don’t know what to say, your Grace,” Eddard said. “I must see my daughters…”

“No,” Nelaemera said firmly. “I’m sorry my Lord, but you cannot. You have to get out of King’s Landing, and you have to do that now.”

“Where am I to do?” Eddard asked. “My son is marching South with an army. I need to go to him.”

“My Lord, you cannot,” Varys said. “If you are seen then your family will be slaughtered instantly.”

“And I have people helping your son, as best as they can,” Nelaemera said. “I also have Sansa under my protection, and people are looking for Arya.”

“What where will I go?” Eddard demanded. “What will happen to me?”

“You will go into exile,” Nelaemera replied. “A small ship is waiting for you, and it will take you to a larger ship not far from here. That ship will then take you to the New Valyrian Empire, where you will live until it’s safe for you to come back.”

Eddard was at a loss for words. He wanted nothing more than to run back into the Red Keep, grab Sansa and flee King’s Landing, but deep down he knew that Nelaemera was right. He had to go into exile for now.

“I am putting my faith in you, Your Grace, that you will watch over my daughter.”

“And you have my word, that she will not come to harm while under my care.”

Eddard nodded, finally satisfied. He took the cloak that Varys offered, pulled it low over his face and followed Nelaemera out of the home. The small ship was waiting for them, just as Nelaemera had said, and in the distance, Eddard could see a more massive ship.

“Thank you, again your Grace,” Eddard said, climbing into the small ship.

One of Nelaemera’s guards began to push the boat into the water, climbing in to grasp the oars.

“You are welcome,” Nelaemera said, giving him a small smile. “Lord Stark.”

She watched as the waves drew the boat away until it was nothing more than a tiny speck in the distance.

Eddard Stark was safe, headed to New Valyria where he would be untouchable. Now that he was out of the way, Nelaemera could turn her attention to helping his daughters.

When Nelaemera arrived, she had no plans of becoming such a supporter of House Stark, but she didn’t want that to change either. Lord Stark had earned her respect, and like Nelaemera had said, she was going to protect Sansa with her life. But it also had made her an enemy of Cersei, but Nelaemera knew precisely how to get under her skin.

A new player had entered the Game of Thrones, and unlike the others who had to learn how to place, Nelaemera was born into the role.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this new chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. Please don't hesitate to comment or like this chapter, although I would prefer your feedback as love to know what you think of the piece. 
> 
> This is the LAST chapter of PART ONE, of A PRINCESS IN A BASTARD COURT. Don't worry! There are three more parts, as this book covers GOT seasons 1 to 4; so there is a LOT more material. I hope you all enjoyed the little twist at the end and would love to know your opinions on it. How do you think this will progress the story in the future, and what do you think Sansa would say to Mera if/when she finds out?
> 
> I am going to take a brief break to watch the new season of GOT and most likely cry in a corner when it's over. Once again, thanks for reading!  
> Thanks!
> 
> —Rae


	14. Part II — Chapter I

The Nobles within the Westerosi Royal Court clapped their hands and stomped their feet to the beat of the music that filled the great hall. Servants milled about, carrying steaming platters of food, as well as goblets filled to the brim of sweet Dornish wine. Silken streamers cascaded down the walls, banners displaying the twin black dragon upon a field of the gold sigil of House Naelgyreon swayed in the wind. This was a celebration, a festival to show off two things: the wealth of the New Valyrian Empire, and to proclaim that Princess Nelaemera had officially come of age.

Today was the day in which Nelaemera had been born, or nameday, in Westerosi culture. Within the Empire, days such as this would be one of feasting and drunken brawls. This was the day in which Nelaemera, now fifteen years of age, would begin to receive betrothal proposals or courting offers. As a Princess, Nelaemera would receive the best of the best. However, within the Empire, women—even noble-born—would typically have the choice in who they would marry. Arranged marriages were rare, as New Valyrian’s believed in true love, is the most durable type of love.

However, the thought of marriage was far from the mind of Nelaemera. Right now, all the Princess wanted to do was to protect Sansa; and this party was a step in that direction.

All eyes were upon Nelaemera’s Ladies, the two-dozen of them, who were dancing in a circle. They were all dressed in silken-red tops that bared their midriffs and matching skirts, thin-veils upon their faces, with silver coins wrapped around their hips and torsos that made music when they moved. Swaying their hips and spinning around, the speed of the music increased, as did their movements.

The Westerosi nobles watched in rapt, fascination at this dance they had never seen before, trying to keep up with the beat themselves. They watched as the New Valyrian Ladies gathered themselves into a small, tight circle, and when they pulled away, Nelaemera emerged.

Nelaemera wasn’t dressed as revealing as her Ladies, but her loose red and gold dress was enough to give any ‘proper’ Westerosi woman a heart attack. In New Valyrian fashion was an expression of the wearer, with a looser, more sensual style of dress. Gripping the sides of her gown, Nelaemera lifted it ever so slightly from the ground and spun in time with the music. She kicked up her feet, leaped and backflipped, her loose, silver curls, flying behind her. A couple of the guards joined in, a masked man grabbing Nelaemera’s hand and pulled her close, holding onto her waist.

The speed of the music increased again, as did their footwork on the dance floor. As Nelaemera danced, she found herself staring into the eyes of her partner, finding something familiar in his sea-blue eyes. He smiled at her, gazing at her with eyes of… could it be love?

Grasping her waist, Nelaemera’s partner lifted her up, spinning her around and around before setting her down back on the ground. Clasping her hands behind their backs, they swayed left and right, finishing the dance pressed close; chest to chest.

The Westerosi Court burst into thunderous applause, people cheering and whistling.

On the Iron Throne, King Joffrey sat, watching the party going on below in with slight boredom. However, when Nelaemera appeared, the young king leaned forward, his light-green eyes never leaving the Princess’s form. When the music and dance ended, Joffrey was the first one out of his chair, clapping the loudest and the hardest. The Court dared not stop clapping, at risk of offending their king, followed his lead.

“Wonderful,” Joffrey said, walking down the steps of the dais. “Absolutely wonderful.”

The New Valyrian Court bowed their heads deeply at his approach, although Nelaemera was the only one who didn’t bow.

“It pleases me that you enjoyed it,” Nelaemera said, giving Joffrey the tiniest of smiles.

“I keep telling Mother that the Court needs more fun,” Joffrey said, tossing a look at his mother, who sat at his side during the event. “Perhaps you could do more?”

“Perhaps,” Nelaemera said.

“You must be tired,” Joffrey said. “Do you need a chair to rest upon?”

At that very moment, Nelaemera saw a pair of blue eyes watching from the shadows, and shook her head. “No, I’ll be alright. But if you excuse me.”

No one would dare just walk away from King Joffrey, but that was precisely what Nelaemera did. Her gown a whisper among the smoothed tile, Westerosi Nobles bowing as she passed.

In a small throne at his side, Queen Regent Cersei watched the New Valyrian Princess with burning, hate-fueled eyes. This whole party was disgusting to her. It was flaunting wealth, wealth that Cersei herself had never seen in her life; and she was a Lannister. Seeing someone else with vast wealth infuriated her, as it made Cersei feel as if she was inferior; and Lannister’s were never inferior to anyone.

She was going to have to put that bitch of a princess in her place, sooner or later.

Cersei turned to Joffrey as he took his place back on the throne. “What are you plans about the Small Council meeting, next week?”

“I was going to let you take care of it,” Joffrey replied, his eyes still upon Nelaemera.

Cersei smirked to herself. “I am glad that you find such trust in me.”

“You are my Mother. But I want to add something.”

“What’s that?”

“Princess Nelaemera. I know that when my father was alive, she never really had a seat on the Small Council. I desire that she officially be given a seat.”

Cersei’s face turned red, her mouth opening to instantly say something sharp, but she closed it just as quickly. Taking a deep breath, Cersei put on a fake smile. “Are you sure that’s wise? The… Princess also was a known confidante to the Traitor Eddard Stark.”

“And when she could have raised an army to march against me, she didn’t,” Joffrey shot back.

“But my son…” Cersei said through clenched teeth. “She’s… not from Westeros.”

“But unlike you, she was born into royalty,” Joffrey said bluntly. “She’s the daughter of a King, not some minor Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. She knows of the divine right to rule.”

Cersei’s blood was boiling. She didn’t know what was more insulting: how the son she bore was speaking to her, or hear him praise that bitch of a princess. Yet Cersei knew better than to question right now, later though, she might try to change his mind.

“If that is your wish.”

* * *

 

Nelaemera weaved her way through the crowds, stretching her arm out and clasping Sansa’s hand. “Did you like the dance?”

Sansa smiled, for the first time in almost a week, the light reached her blue eyes. “I really did enjoy it. We don’t have dances like that, in Westeros.”

“You don’t have a lot of things like that in Westeros,” Nelaemera teased, taking two goblets of watered down wine from a servant, giving one to Sansa. “Walk with me, I must speak to you.”

Sansa glanced behind them at a couple of Cersei’s ladies. The three of them had been watching Sansa like a hawk ever since the party began. Sansa knew that they had been sent by the Queen, to make sure that she didn’t run off to join her brother.

Nelaemera followed the direction of Sansa’s gaze and snapped her fingers, two of her Warriormaids instantly appearing. As Nelaemera directed Sansa out of the Great Hall, the two Warriormaids walked several footfalls back, making sure that no one could sneak up on them.

“I have received a Messenger Falcon from Ballonos,” Nelaemera whispered to Sansa.

“Messenger Falcon?” Sansa repeated. “What’s that?”

“Think of them like your ravens,” Nelaemera explained. “Only smaller, smarter, and are extremely had to intercept. At this moment, Ballonos is with your brother, and according to him, the North is slowly making its way South.”

Sansa’s heart leaped in her chest. “He said that?”

“Yes. But he doesn’t know how long it will take him to reach here. Sansa, if I could, I would take you out of here, but it would put you in even greater danger than you are now.”

“I know, and I thank you for doing all that you are for me. What about Arya?”

“My spies haven’t brought me any new information, but then again, you never know. I’m going to keep looking for her.”

Sansa sighed, reaching out she wrapped her arms around Nelaemera, pulling her friend close. It meant so much to her to have at least one friend in this terrible place. When

Sansa arrived, she was mystified by King’s Landing, by the Red Keep. Only now did she realize that beneath the glittering jewels of the royal court were nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

“Joffrey’s nameday celebration is next week,” Sansa murmured to herself. “He’s going to make sure I’m there for whatever terrible spectacle he has planned.”

“Then I shall be there too,” Nelaemera said. “I refuse to leave you alone with him.”

She clasped Sansa’s hand tightly, and for a moment, the two girls stared into each other’s eyes. Nelaemera had done much for Sansa, much more than anyone besides her family, the Stark Girl realized.

But just as quickly as their moment had begun, the sound of distant footsteps broke it.

Sansa instantly looked away, her face slightly flushed. “I… We should return to your party. I’m sure a lot of people are looking for you.”

Nelaemera nodded, the two of them hurrying back to the Great Hall. Separating from Sansa, Nelaemera milled about, receiving congratulations from the nobles as well as gifts. However, as one noble stepped aside, Nelaemera was surprised to find herself face-to-face with the Queen Regent herself, Cersei.

“Hello,” Cersei said, putting on her biggest, fakest smile.

“Hello,” Nelaemera said, neither bowing nor calling Cersei ‘Your Grace.’ “Enjoying the party?”

“It is… a spectacle,” Cersei choked out. “We don’t have anything like this in Westeros.”

“So, I’ve heard,” Nelaemera said curtly. “How can I help you?”

Cersei clasped her hands in front of her, more-like clenching them. “My son, the King, has formally invited you to join the Small Council. You won’t have a title, of course, but…”

“But I do have a title,” Nelaemera interrupted. “I’m a Princess, born, bred and raised. Why does Joffrey want me on his Small Council?”

“That, I do not know. But shall I tell him that you refuse?”

“I never said that. I’m not sure how I feel. But I will give you my answer tomorrow.”

Cersei’s face was tight as she nodded. “Thank you, so much.”


	15. Part II — Chapter II

The warm rays of the sun shined through one of the windows in Nelaemera’s bedchamber. Inside the massive bed, the two young girls slept, curled around each other like cats. In the short time between Sansa meeting Nelaemera and Sansa’s father’s death, the two had grown to be quite close. Sansa trusted Nelaemera with her life, just as Nelaemera would do anything to keep Sansa safe.

Today was the day of Joffrey’s nameday celebration, and it was expected that both girls attend the event. Sansa herself would be having a nameday soon, but she doubted that anyone would care. Well, anyone but Nelaemera.

When Nelaemera felt the warmth of the sun on her shoulder, she began to stir. Her violet eyes swept the room, glancing down to see Sansa cuddled close to her, almost like a lover. The sight made Nelaemera’s stomach to flip, as she reached down and carefully brushed back a couple of loose strands of auburn hair, from Sansa’s cheek.

The Valyrian Princess couldn’t deny that she felt something for the Stark Girl, and now that she was fifteen, Nelaemera wondered if perhaps it was more… than just feeling protective. In New Valyria, it wasn’t uncommon for couples of the same sex to be in relationships. Children were taught that love didn’t have skin color or gender. Nelaemera even had a couple of great aunts, uncle, and cousins who were married to people of the same sex.

However, for some reason, Nelaemera felt in the back of her mind that here, in Westeros, this might be frowned upon. But, she couldn’t deny that she felt something for the Northern Girl, Nelaemera just had to try to figure out the full extent of these feelings.

A gentle knock on the door told Nelaemera that it was time for them all to wake. Although, secretly, Nelaemera didn’t exactly want too. Yet, she had no choice.

“Sansa?” Nelaemera whispered as she slid from the bed. “Sansa, wake up.”

Sansa slowly began to stir, absent-mindly reaching out and grabbing for Nelaemera’s form. When Sansa realized what she was doing, her cheeks burned as she turned away.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“I’m not exactly sure,” Nelaemera said, walking to one of the windows. “But my Maids should be coming soon with our breakfast, followed by my Ladies to help us dress for Joffrey’s event.”

Sansa flinched at the mention of the king’s name. “Do we honestly have to go?”

“My mother always said that if you do not like a person, it’s best to at least pretend you share some of the interests. That way, you can bend them to your will.”

“But I don’t want to bend Joffrey to my will. I want to go home…”

Nelaemera turned to her friend. Walking to Sansa, Nelaemera knelt and took her hands into hers. “If I could break you from this prison, I would. But I’m under strict instructions by my father, not to start a war. I can offend these savages as much as I want, but I am walking a very fine line.”

“I know,” Sansa whispered, holding onto Nelaemera’s hands as if they were her lifeline. “You don’t know what this means to me, to know that I have a friend here.”

Nelaemera smiled and playfully tapped Sansa’s nose as she stood up. “I’d think by now we are much closer than regular friends.”

A soft knock on Nelaemera’s door told the girls that the Ladies and Maids were there, ready to prepare them for this day.

* * *

 

A couple of hours later, Sansa and Nelaemera sat as the guests of honor at the tournament that Joffrey was hosting to celebrate his nameday. Sansa was on his left, and Nelaemera sat upon his right. The dress that the Valyrian Princess wore had the noble ladies of Westeros whispering, much to Cersei’s ire.

Nelaemera was dressed in a long-sleeve, open-shoulder gown made of silk that was red, gold and white. Majority of the dress was white, although there was a corset-like wrap around her waist that was red and embroidered with gold. The long sleeves were loose, made of delicate muslin material that rippled like water, unlike the thicker material the noble women wore. At the bottom of the corset-wrap dangled an elaborate golden broach, from which hung meter-long length golden string decorated with golden beads, rubies, and diamonds.

Rather than have her hair done up in that ridiculous half-moon style like the Westerosi ladies, Nelaemera had her curls lose but wore diadem as decor. It was made of golden wire, silken flowers that looked naturally real, with a large ruby encircled by diamonds in the center of her forehead.

The outfit was regal, showed Nelaemera’s wealth, but also made her seem innocent and delicate. The latter of which was laughable by all those who knew Nelaemera.

Several of the court lords couldn’t keep their eyes off Nelaemera, the heated leers were something that Nelaemera could easily ignore. No one in this so-called court was worth her time, her attention.

The primary person who couldn’t stop staring was Joffrey. The young king found it hard to watch the men battling before him, and Nelaemera knew it.

This was her plan, after all. It didn’t take her long to read this pathetic excuse for a king, and she knew the true secret of his parentage. His parents were the queen and her twin brother, not the former Usurper, as Cersei screamed to the rooftops. Nelaemera almost was impressed with how far the woman was willing to go to protect her secret.

Almost.

Nelaemera wouldn’t forgive the Lannister Woman for causing Sansa so much pain, and stealing her beloved son was the best thing that Nelaemera could do. Not only was she using Joffrey’s infatuation with her to turn him against Cersei, but is diverted his cruelty to Sansa.

Nelaemera turned her attention back to the blood sport before her, as the Hound battled against some unknown knight. They were fighting next to the castle walls, the Hound swinging his mace so hard that it knocked the knight over the edge.

The assembled ladies either flinched or screamed as the man dropped fifty feet to the ground. His head cracked open, spilling brains and blood onto the white marble floor.  
Joffrey leaped to his feet, clapping wildly, his court mimicking his excitement. “Well struck, Dog!” he yelled to the Hound.

Nelaemera watched as the Hound took off his helmet, revealing a grotesque face. Half of his face was burned off, the scars appearing as if they didn’t have time to heal properly.

Joffrey turned to look at Sansa and Nelaemera, before settling upon Sansa. “Did you like that?”

Sansa swallowed the lump in her throat, yet forced herself to put on a courtly smile. “It was well struck, Your Grace.”

“I already said that it was well struck,” Joffrey snapped.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Sansa said, looking away.

Joffrey grit his teeth between his thin lips, before turning to Nelaemera, this time putting the courtly smile on his face. “And you, Princess, did you enjoy that?”

“The Hound fights like an animal,” Nelaemera replied bluntly, accepting the glass of iced sweet wine from one of her Maids. “He could have easily ended that fight without knocking the man over the side of the wall.”

“He might have, if that was what I wanted,” Joffrey said.

“You wasted a perfectly good knight. I would suggest, maybe next time, have your knights lightly maim, but not kill. That way, they can fight another day.”

Joffrey nodded at her words, turning to the assembled knights who were to fight for him. “You hear that?! Her Grace, Princess Nelaemera, says that you are to lightly maim now, not kill! I so order it!”

Everyone nodded, knowing better than to question him.

* * *

 

“Who’s next?” Joffrey called out.

“Ser Dontos Hollard,” the Herald said. “Battling against a knight under the service of Lord Petyr Balish.”

As the man righting under Petyr Balish walked forward proudly, this Ser Dontos Hollard didn’t appear at the call of his name.

“Where is he?” Joffrey demanded.

“Here I am!” a voice called out.

A man, who Nelaemera could only describe as a bumbling fool, waddled forward. He was much fatter than the size of any standard knight and was severely underequipped. The ‘helmet’ that this Ser Hollard was wearing, was made of very thin metal and looked to more-so be a sun hat; then something to protect the delicate brain. He even dropped the sorry excuse for head protection, scrambling to pick it up.

Nelaemera didn’t have to glance at Joffrey to know that he was infuriated by this display.

“I’m sorry Your Grace,” Ser Hollard said, struggling to strap on his helmet. “My deepish apologizes.”

“Are you drunk?” Joffrey asked casually as if he was asking about the weather.

“N-No,” Ser Hollard stammered. “No, Your Grace. I only had two cups of wine.”

“Two cups?” Joffrey asked, mockingly. “That’s not much at all.” He held out his hand to the wine at his left. “Please, have another cup.”

Ser Hollard looked at the offered cup and held onto his pike. “Are… Are you sure, Your Grace?”

Sansa instantly looked to Nelaemera, her blue eyes wide with the worry of what Joffrey might have up his sleeve.

“Yes…” Joffrey purred, like a cat playing with its prey. “To celebrate my nameday. Have two, have as much as you like.”

The air in the royal court had grown still, silent. Joffrey’s smooth, even tone, unsettled everyone.

Ser Hollard bowed his head but didn’t move toward the wine. “I… I’d be honored, Your Grace.”

“Ser Meryn,” Joffrey commanded. “Help Ser Hollard celebrate my nameday. See that he drinks his fill.”

The sadistic Ser Meryn walked forward, a smirk on his lips. Ser Hollard didn’t see the fist aimed at his gut, nor did he expect the Kingsguard to surround him like a flock of buzzards. Two put his hands behind his back while another grabbed a funnel, forcing Ser Hollard’s mouth open. Lastly, another guard grabbed a barrel of wine and began to force it down Ser Hollard’s throat.

Ser Hollard was able to swallow the first couple of mouthfuls, but afterward, he began to choke.

Joffrey watched with wicked glee, smirking as one of his knights began to drown in the wine forced down his throat.

“You can’t!” Sansa blurted out.

Joffrey jerked his head in her direction. “What did you say?”

Sansa took a moment to compose herself before slowly turning to face him.

“Did you just say that I can’t?” Joffrey asked.

“I… I only meant…,” Sansa said, choosing her words carefully. “It would be bad luck, to kill a man on your nameday.”

“What type of stupid… peasants’ superstition is that?” Joffrey sneered.

“Sansa is right in this,” Nelaemera cut in, although she didn’t pull her eyes away from Ser Hollard. “In the Empire, it is believed that whatever you give out, you get back. When someone celebrates the day of their birth, they give out presents and treats to members of their household, to thank them for their years of service. It inspires loyalty.”

“And this works?” Joffrey asked, giving Nelaemera his full attention.

Nelaemera slowly shrugged her shoulders, making sure to reveal the delicate curve of her neck. “The High Lord and their families give out gifts to our subjects. After the conquest of Baelarys—the Founder of my House—there hasn’t been a rebellion, or uprising once. Anyone who tried to conquer us was bathed in dragon fire.” She slowly turned her head, looking into Joffrey’s green eyes. “So tell me, what do you think is the right thing to do?”

Joffrey, transfixed by her, waved his hand dismissively at the choking knight. “Take him away. I’ll have him killed tomorrow, the damn fool.”

Ser Hollard coughed up the wine that was forced down his throat, wheezing and vomiting.

“Wait… he is a fool,” Sansa suddenly said, desperate to save his life. “You’re so clever to see it. He’ll make a much better fool than a knight, don’t you agree, Mera?”

Nelaemera smiled, catching onto Sansa’s plan. “Yes, yes he will. His talents were wasted on being a knight.”

“He doesn’t deserve the mercy of a quick death,” Sansa added.

Joffrey looked between the two ladies on either side of him, practically glowing with the attention being shown to him. His green eyes cut in the direction of Ser Hollard. “Did you hear the Lady Sansa and Princess Nelaemera, Ser? From this day, you’ll be my new fool.”

“Thank you, Your Graces,” Ser Hollard said, bowing his head. “My Lady.”

As Ser Hollard was led away, a voice that Nelaemera had never before called out, “Beloved nephew.”

Nelaemera turned her head to see a child waddling in this direction. No, it wasn’t a child. It was a man, but he was the size of a child. His hair blonde, his eyes green, and he was wearing armor as if he had just returned from a battle.

“Lord Tyrion,” people began to murmur, most bowing to step out of his way. “Lord Tyrion.”

Nelaemera glanced behind her at one of her Warriormaids, a silent conversation between them. This Tyrion had to be Tyrion Lannister, but Nelaemera didn’t know that he was a dwarf. There were books about all of the House of Westeros in the Royal New Valyrian Archives, with new information being added whenever it came.

This Tyrion was supposed to be the sharp and shrewd member of the family, but Nelaemera had to put that first to the test. She watched as he strode to the royal box, confidently, before stopping in front of Tommen and Myrcella.

“We looked for you on the battlefield,” Tyrion said to Joffrey. “And you were nowhere to be found.”

Joffrey quickly sat back down between Sansa and Nelaemera. “I-I’ve been here, ruling the kingdoms.”

“What a fine job that you’ve done,” Tyrion said, his tone mocking as he poured himself a goblet of wine. “Look at you, Little Myrcella, you’re more beautiful than ever. And you, Tommon, you’re going to be bigger than the Hound. But between you and me, much better looking.”

“We heard you were dead,” Joffrey cut in, trying to be cruel with his words.

“I’m glad that you’re not dead,” Myrcella said.

“Me too,” Tyrion chuckled, taking a long gulp of the wine in his goblet. “Death is boring, especially now, with so much excitement in the world.” He turned to Sansa. “My Lady, I’m sorry for your loss.”

Sansa’s heart leaped in her throat, but she straightened her back, refusing to shed a tear. She opened her mouth to speak, but once again Joffrey cut in to be cruel.

“Her loss?” Joffrey mocked. “Her father was a confessed traitor.”

“But still her Father,” Tyrion snapped right back. “Surely having lost your own benevolent father, you should be able to sympathize.”

Joffrey snorted and looked to Sansa, waiting for her to say something.

Sansa glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, then looking to Nelaemera to guidance. “My father was a traitor,” she said, fighting to prevent her voice from trembling. “My mother and brother are traitors too. I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey.”

“Of course, you,” Tyrion said, his face unreadable.

“Uncle, have you met the Princess Nelaemera?” Joffrey asked, his thin lips curved into a smug smile.

Tyrion turned to look at Nelaemera, his green eyes ranking her slowly up and down. Once again, his face was unreadable, but Nelaemera was one who could read people. She stretched out her hand for Tyrion to kiss, which he accepted and did so.

“So, the rumor speaks true, there is an Empire of Dragonlords out there.”

“We’ve always hidden in plain sight,” Nelaemera replied. “Have our hands in virtually everything but slavery.”

“A noble philosophy. Tell me, Your Grace, what do you think so far of Westeros?”

Nelaemera shrugged casually. “It has its moments, but I’m still deciding if it’s worth being an ally.”

“Then I hope that the recent affairs haven’t changed your mind on such matters.”

“On the contrary, Lord Tyrion, it’s evolved them.”

Tyrion nodded, bowing his head to them before turning around, and leaving.


	16. Part II — Chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> I'm back writing on this story, I know, it's been a LONG time since I posted on it but I've had the urge to get back writing on it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The light from torches cast shadows upon Crown Princess Alaenna Naelgyreon’s face, revealing her grim expression. The young woman’s hand went to her belly, feeling the stirring of her unborn child within. It was almost as if the child would sense her anguish, sense her distaste in what Alaenna was about to do.

In front of the Crown Princess was a funeral pyre, and laying on the gold-painted scaffolding was the body that belonged to her father. Alaenna couldn’t believe that less than twenty-four hours ago, that body was Rhaemion Naelgyreon, the 15th High Lord of the New Valyrian Empire. Coming to the throne as a mere babe, Rhaemion was crowned High Lord when his mother, Relaelyra, died in childbirth. She, herself had only been High Lord for three years.

Standing at Alaenna’s side was her own mother, the ebony-skinned former High Consort, Vellella. Born into a powerful family from Braavos, it was through Vellella that the New Valyrian Empire formed an alliance with the Iron Bank. With these connections, Alaenna learned some interesting news about Westeros, news that she would be sent to her sister soon. But first, the most important matters had to be handled.

Alaenna looked to her Father’s dragon, the mount of Rhaemion’s Mother and her father before her. Now, if the beast didn’t claim another rider, it would be retired to the Dragon Caves; a section of land in the empire was the eldest dragons resided.

“Drakarys,” Alaenna said softly.

Rhaemion’s Dragon took a deep breath, before unleashing a column of blue and green dragon fire, igniting the pyre with the colorful flames. Alaenna held her Mother’s hand tightly, feeling the older woman’s shoulder sag as sobs racked her body. Rhaemion had been her first and only love, and Alaenna knew that her mother would mourn his death until her last days.

A Fyremage stepped forward and cleared his throat to the assembled people. “Kneel before Alaenna of House Naelgyreon, Sixteenth High Lord of the New Valyrian Empire; and the Gods’ Chosen Protector of the Realm!”

All, including Alaenna’s mother, bowed to their knees, repeating this proclamation.

The death of her father had turned Alaenna into what she was always meant to be, who she was born to be. But the former Crown Princess never thought of the cost. She had lost her father, the man who had taught her from childhood how to ride a dragon, how to rule. Now, he was gone.

Alaenna didn’t even know how her younger sister, Nelaemera, was going to react to the news. With the death of their father, Nelaemera’s place in the Empire had been dramatically changed. Alaenna had a husband, she had three children: one nearly grown, one in her early teens, and one within her womb. No longer was she the High Lord’s daughter, Nelaemera was now the High Lord’s sister. Since Nelaemera was not a dragonrider, she was not an heiress to the Dragon Throne and instead that title passed to Alaenna’s son. But Alaenna didn’t know how the Westerosi Nobles would react knowing that Nelaemera was now the High Lord’s sister and not daughter.

Hopefully, it would be with even greater respect.

Later that night, after the last of the funeral rites, Alaenna looked around the royal chambers of High Lord… her chambers now.

“My love?” a deep voice said. “Are you alright?”

Alaenna turned and saw her husband, Beladhor, standing on the threshold of their new chambers. Born and raised in the Free City of Myr, the marriage between Beladhor and Alaenna had started out as a political one; but quickly became a love match.

“Not really,” Alaenna answered, sitting down in a window seat that overlooked the Capital. “But then again, who is alright after cremating their father.”

Beladhor crossed the room, kneeling before her as he kissed her belly. “You should not be stressed, my love… so much stress is not good for the baby.”

Alaenna’s lips curved into a small smile. “You always spoil our children from the womb.”

“Children as the god’s blessing upon their people,” Beladhor chuckled, kissing her belly again. “But truthfully my love, how are you?”

“Apprehensive,” Alaenna answered honestly. “I’m the High Lord now… that means I have more duties now… Strange is this feeling. I remember when I was a little girl, all I wanted was to be like my father, to be respected and loved by him, to wear his crown. Never once did I consider that to become High Lord meant my father had to die.”

“That doesn’t always have to be the case,” Beladhor said. “Perhaps you can think of a solution to change it.”

Alaenna thought it over. She did not wish for her son to feel the same anguish that she felt, over her father’s death. Maybe there was another way…

“I must look to the future now,” Alaenna said, changing the subject. “And for Nelaemera’s safety as well. If I were the worrying type, I’d bring her back to New Valyria… but we need her in Westeros. We need her to help us locate the lost Targaryen siblings. The Stark Lord is settling in well.”

“Oh,” Beladhor said, sitting up. “One of our spies has brought news from the lead your sister gave us. There is only one Targaryen out there now. The girl, Daenerys I believe is her name. Her brother married her to a Dothraki Khal who killed the fool after he threatened her, and her unborn.”

“Do we have any information about where this Khal might be?” Alaenna asked.

Beladhor shook his head. “Not at the moment, but we can find them.”

“Good, I want her brought to New Valyria as soon as possible,” Alaenna said. “A Valyrian alone in the world is a terrible thing…”

* * *

 

Inside her chambers, Princess Nelaemera lay inside her massive bed, fast asleep. Curled around a sleeping Sansa, the girls’ hands were intertwined as if it were a lifeline between the two.

Sansa was the first to wake, but as she moved she felt something warm and sticky in the sheets. Groaning softly, Sansa reached down to touch it, holding her hand up to the light to reveal it covered in blood. Blood roared in Sansa’s ears as she screamed in horror, starling Nelaemera in the bed and Alyhna who laid on the floor.

“No!” Sansa yelled. “No! No! No!”

“Sansa, what’s wrong?!” Nelaemera asked, her hand going under her pillow to pull out a dagger.

“I’m bleeding,” Sansa whispered. “I can’t… I can’t be bleeding…”

Nelaemera grabbed her friend’s hand, frowning as she moved to look at her sleeping silks. “There isn’t any drop of blood on your gown,” she said, only to groan softly as a spike of pain stabbed her in the loins. Biting her tongue against the pain, Nelaemera pulled up the blankets and sighed. “I’m the one who’s bleeding. I have gotten my moon blood. Can you…”

Sansa didn’t hear anything that Nelaemera had said. Her body trembled, Joffrey’s words echoing in her mind. ‘Once you’ve had your blood I’ll put a son in you. Mother said it won’t be too hard…’

‘I’ll have to lay with him,’ Sansa though in horror. ‘I will have to share Joffrey’s bed. The bed of the man who murdered my father.’

“Sansa?” Nelaemera said, waving a hand in front of her face. “Sansa, are you there? Did you hear me?”

Sansa blinked, lowering her hand. “I-I’m sorry… What did you say?”

“Can you call my Warriormaids and tell them to draw me a bath please?” Nelaemera repeated. “Are you alright? You do know what your moon blood is, right?”

“Y-Yes,” Sansa stammered. “I-I know what it is. Mother told me that it would come soon… I just…”

“It’s a shock, I know,” Nelaemera said, watching as Sansa stayed frozen on the bed. “But I sense there is another reason that you screamed in terror. Sansa, what is it,” she gripped her friend’s arm. “You can tell me.”

“Joffrey… Joffrey said…” Sansa whispered. “That once I had my blood then he… he’d put a son in me. I’d have to… to…”

“Lay with him,” Nelaemera finished. “And you don’t have to tell me how distasteful the thought is to you.”

“No!” Sansa said, quickly, her eyes dancing with fear. “I love him, I love my beloved Joffrey. I love…”

Nelaemera reached up and cupped Sansa’s cheek, the action at once calming the Stark girl down. The touch was soft, gentle, one that made Sansa close her eyes and sigh almost in… pleasure?

“I can tell my own Warriormaids to draw my bath,” Nelaemera said, forcing herself to pull her hands away. “There is a basin that you can get cleaned up in.”

“Thank you,” Sansa said, looking at her hands, the sight making her stomach turn. “I’m sorry for the way that I acted.”

“It’s alright,” Nelaemera said, giving her a small smile. “In the Empire, moon blood isn’t something to be terrified of. It is normally a time of celebration. Mother had me pack cotton bundles soaked in herbs to sooth the internal pain.”

Sansa’s face flushed as she watched Nelaemera stand from the bed. “Mera… can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Nelaemera replied. “What is it.”

“W-When… When people are married in your land… is it… does it hurt? The wedding night?” Sansa asked.

“It depends, I was told,” Nelaemera said. “Sometimes it can, but that’s because the woman isn’t… pleasured enough,” she chose her words carefully. “We are supposed to have pleasure in the act too, Sansa. In my realm, men and women are equals.”

“It sounds like a paradise,” Sansa sighed. “How I wish I could be there.”

Nelaemera bit her lip, remember the massive secret that Sansa would find waiting for her in New Valyria. “Maybe one day,” she finally said. “Maybe one day.”


End file.
